Hermione's Baby
by EternalOphelia
Summary: Chapter 23THE END!HD. Three unlikely students are found together, unconscious, by the lake. When they come to they find nearly 4 months of their lives have been erased from their memories. But that is by far the least of their problems. RR
1. Prologue

Hey all! Here I am again, writing more Harry Potter fan fics. I can't seem to stop myself. I mean, I thought I was obsessed before, but when I have others around me that are into HP as well, it magnifies my obsession one hundred fold. The other day me and a friend spent all afternoon watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban extras, analyzing them, and then we watched part of the movie in Spanish, and then other parts in French. It was quite amusing, I suggest it ;)

Anyway, the premise of this fic is something like what I've done before, but with different twists that lead to different outcomes. It is, in all actuality, a Draco/Hermione fic, but seeing that right away could be difficult. I've gotten a lot of heat in the past with my stories (Harry Potter and the other section I write in, under another penname, for Dragonball Z) because a lot of the time I don't have happy endings, or my endings aren't what people wanted, or I do have happy endings but all the agony it took to get there really didn't settle well. I just want to say that I personally love the stories that _don't _have happy sappy endings, because they are more true to real life. That doesn't mean that that's all I'll write, but just know that it's a big influence for me. I'm not saying that that's how this fic will turn out. I don't even know how it'll end. I try not to think too far ahead, and let the story lead me to the right places. That's how it's always been.

Well, enough of that, I should probably start this thing, heehee!

* * *

Chapter 1: Prologue

Imagine never being enough for someone. Imagine doing all you can, all you know how to do, and still it isn't enough. Imagine loving someone so passionately that even the simplest functions seem impossible without them. And imagine that that same person does not—and could never—love you back.

Imagine heaven and hell in one breath.

Imagine death.

* * *

Dumbledore paced in his office, the stretch of carpet worn thin over the years of trepidation and worry. Being the Headmaster of any school was a hassle. Being the Headmaster of a school with young and eager witches and wizards was like walking on pins and needles all the time. Not that he didn't love and enjoy his job, but at times it was almost too much. Even if Voldemort weren't a constant fact, he still had the students and their abilities to worry about. Anything could go wrong.

He was the ringmaster in a never-ending circus.

Most recently, his biggest problem dealt with the ministry. There was pressure from all sides with the issue of Voldemort. Everyone wanted him to do something, to solve the problem, but what they simply would not believe was that he didn't know what to do. He wasn't God, he didn't have all the answers, though he had most. He couldn't know how and when the Dark Lord would strike.

He strolled over to Fawkes, patting his molted head, wondering when he would burn and be born again. He was quite overdue. He was about to sit down and take care of some paperwork, when Professor Snape came bursting through the door, his greasy black hair sticky to his face. He was rabid with anxiety.

"Yes, professor?" Dumbledore asked calmly, knowing that there were only a few reasons a teacher would allow his or herself to appear such a way in front of their equals or superiors.

"You must come with me," he said quickly, motioning toward the door. "Now."

"What's the problem?" he asked as they made their way down the spiral staircase. They were headed outside.

"Some students were found by the lake." His voice was solemn at best. "Filch saw a light and went to investigate. Madame Pompfrey's on her way…They're unconscious."

Dumbledore placed a fatherly hand on Snape's shoulder, stopping him just before they were out the door.

"Who were they, professor?"

"Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and…Draco Malfoy."

* * *

Well, well, well, that was chapter one. Or the prologue, to be more precise. I know it's not a lot, but hopefully it'll make you want to read more. To find out what exactly happened to them. Muhahaha!

REVIEW!

The next chapter should be out shortly, if I can help it. I have finals this week, and then I'm home for the summer. I'll have a lot of time in between tests to write, but I can't promise anything. I may decide to study after all, lol!


	2. Good Morning Mommy!

Recap:

Dumbledore placed a fatherly hand on Snape's shoulder, stopping him just before they were out the door.

"Who were they, professor?"

"Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and…Draco Malfoy."

* * *

Chapter 2: Good Morning Mommy!

Draco rolled over in his bed, grabbing for the warm body that should have been there. When he found none, he forced his sleepy eyes open. It was far more than he could have expected.

"What the hell—"

"It's alright, Mr. Malfoy," came Dumbledore's reassuring voice. Draco was none too reassured, however, and tore back the covers of his hospital bed. He was only on his feet for an instant, when Madame Pompfrey shuffled over, pushing him back down. She handed him a cup of tea, telling him to drink.

Any other time Draco would have brushed her off and left the room. He was a Malfoy after all, and they took orders from no one. Well, almost no one. But, on this particular day, something was going on, something he should know. He was in the infirmary, yet the last thing he remembered was falling asleep. He hadn't gone to Quidditch practice in a few days, so that couldn't be the reason.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

His eyes snapped up, leveling with Dumbledore's. He frowned and turn away, nearly choking on his tea when he found the two beds beside him full of the most unlikely of people: Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. It seemed they'd both been awake for sometime. It took all his willpower to not hurl his cup across the room in anger. The nerve of them! Allowing him to sleep there while _they_ were in the same room!

"What's going on?" he demanded. He would have tried to get out of bed again, if not for the convocation of teachers around him. Professor Snape gave him a stiff nod, silently telling him to cooperate. Reluctantly he obeyed.

"There was an accident," Dumbledore said, dropping his voice slightly. "The three of you—" He motioned to the others, who listened just as intently as him. "—were found by the lake. A spell was cast, but it somehow went wrong. You were all knocked unconscious."

"A spell?" Hermione asked. Draco glared at her. Who asked her to interrupt? "Who cast a spell?"

"As far as we can tell," the headmaster sighed, "it came from Mr. Weasley's wand."

Ron baulked, and attempted to speak, but found he could only managed rants and babble.

"This does not prove that it was Mr. Weasley who cast the spell, which might explain why it went wrong."

"What happened to us?" Hermione asked, glancing down to check herself for injuries. "We're not hurt. Why are we in the hospital?"

"Precautions," Madame Pompfrey answered, then came to sit in the chair beside her bed. "And we're lucky we did. You're in no condition to be in such a situation, Miss Granger."

"No condition?" Ron asked.

Everyone's eyes fell on Hermione, as if she held the answer. But all she could offer was the same blank look of confusion.

"What condition?"

"You don't know?" Madame Pompfrey asked, biting her lip. "But how could you not?"

"Would someone please tell me what's going on!"

Dumbledore stepped forward, gripping the foot of the bed.

"What do you last remember? Any of you?"

They all gave a different answer, a different place. But one thing was the same; they were recalling a day some four months before. The room itself seemed to sigh, before Dumbledore explained what he surmised must have occurred the night in question.

"Wait, wait," Ron cut in. "You're saying that someone cast a spell by the lake, with my wand, and when it backfired we all lost our memories?"

"The last thing you remember is a day a few weeks before finals, correct?"

Ron nodded, the knot in his stomach growing at the seconds ticked by.

"What year are you in, Mr. Weasley?"

He hesitated, pulling his legs in to sit Indian-style.

"S-Sixth."

In the bed beside him, Hermione jumped to her feet, demanding to know what this had to do with her "condition".

Dumbledore smiled sadly at her.

"You're in your fourth week of your seventh year, Miss Granger." He paused a moment to allow her, and the others, to absorb this information. "And the reason we are so worried about you in particular, is because you are a few days shy of your third month of pregnancy."

The room couldn't have been more silent if they were in a vacuum.

And then she burst into tears, her fingers clawing at her soon-to-be swollen belly. She nearly took Madame Pompfrey down in her hysteria, when Ron rushed to her side, clinging to her like an old lover. It took her a good ten minutes to calm down, and all the while Draco sat quiet in his bed, wondering what in the name of Merlin this had to do with him.

"H-How is this possible?" she whispered into Ron's shoulder.

"What do you mean, dear?" Madame Pompfrey asked. Surely she knew how a baby was conceived.

"I-I…" She wiped her eyes, but it did little good to dry her sorrow. "I'm a virgin."

"You mean Mr. Weasley isn't—"

"I've hardly _kissed_ a boy!" she stammered. There had to be some kind of mistake. How could she—poster-child student Hermione Granger—be pregnant? "Are you sure? I mean, how do you know?"

"You've all been out for days," she explained. "We ran several tests, quick spells to insure you were alright. Your results, Miss Granger, were somewhat different. After a few unsuccessful tries, I figured out what was wrong."

"Could you be mistaken?" she whispered.

"I'm afraid not. I checked several times. The answer was always the same."

Professor McGonagall stepped up, having kept silent throughout the mini-interrogation.

"Do you have any idea who the father could be, Hermione?"

"I-I…No professor. Viktor was the only boy I was ever involved with, but that was over almost a year ago."

"We have a theory." She glanced from Ron to Draco. It took her a moment, but, little by little, it sunk in, and Hermione threw herself back to fast that Ron didn't have a chance to let go and went tumbling on top of her. A moment later the other two caught on, and all at once they tried to talk, their voices drown out by each other's. "One at a time, please…Hermione?"

"It's Ron's," she cried through her hands. In the bed beside her, Draco nodded his head vigorously in agreement. "It has to be. I've fancied him since second year."

"Really?" Ron asked, pulling her hands down to look into her eyes.

"Really," she whispered back.

"There you go," Draco said angrily, wrinkling his nose in disgust at them, and at the situation in general. "How could you think I would touch a mud—her?" If he hadn't saved himself, he might have needed to be in that hospital bed.

Dumbledore frowned and sighed.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple children. You were all found near the lake, in very close proximity to each other. You two were closest." He motioned to Hermione and Draco. "Mr. Weasley's wand was the only one that was recently used. All signs point—"

"Wait. Let me get this straight." Hermione interrupted. "You expect me to believe that _Malfoy _could be the father of _my_ baby?"

He nodded, his eyes drawn down. He knew it was the last thing they needed to hear right now. But he simply could not allow them to go on believing a lie, if that was in fact the conclusion they came to. They should know all possibilities.

To his complete surprise, both Ron and Hermione burst into peals of laughter. Draco remained sullen, horrified at the idea that anyone could think he would even look at a mudblood that way, much less _touch_ them.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, catching her eyes. "I must impress upon you that importance of knowing for certain whose child you carry."

"But I know—"

"Please," he insisted. "Allow Madame Pompfrey to determine that in one month's time. Then we can be sure."

"Headmaster—"

"I only have your best interests in mind."

She sighed, and looked to Ron, who could only offer her a nod. What could it hurt? They already knew the truth.

"Fine," she caved, pulling Ron instinctively towards her. "Come find me in a month."

* * *

The first to leave the room were Ron and Hermione, arm in arm, headed off to Gryffindor Tower to tell their friends their news. They were still completely shocked, and nowhere near ready to tell their parents, but the idea was slowly sinking in. They would have a baby in six months, and, hopefully, before that time they would regain their memories. Madame Pompfrey was skeptical about giving them potions, for they still didn't know all the details surrounding the events that occurred. And Dumbledore was certain their memories would return in time. If not, then after a few months, it should be safe enough to give them potions.

Draco brought up the rear, keeping a great distance between himself and the others. He still couldn't believe the audacity the headmaster had to assume what he had. He was so lost in his thoughts and anger, that he didn't hear the person who came up beside him.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

He jumped, coming to a halt. It was Professor Snape.

"May I have a word with you in my office?"

"Professor, it's late—"

"It'll only take a moment," he assured, turning him in the opposite direction.

Draco settled in a large leather chair opposite Snape's desk, trying to ignore the more-solemn-than-usual look on his face.

"There's something you should know," his professor said plainly.

"About?"

"Your parents."

Draco's breath caught. The last he knew they were in Azkaban. They couldn't have escaped!

It took everything he had to hide his emotions.

"What about them?"

"It happened just a month ago," he said, keeping his eyes level. He was not one to cower when the situation called for it. "Draco, your parents are dead."

"Excuse me?" That couldn't have been what he heard.

"They died in Azkaban, Draco. They're gone."

"You mean—"

"Yes," Snape sighed, patting his shoulder. "Don't bother coming to my class tomorrow."

And all he could say was, "Ok."

* * *

Well, I think I'll end there. I know it's a dreadfully short chapter, much shorter than I usually have, but I wanted to get it out. I promise the next chapter will be longer :)

REVIEW! Please :P


	3. Baby Blues

Recap:

"They died in Azkaban, Draco. They're gone."

"You mean—"

"Yes," Snape sighed, patting his shoulder. "Don't bother coming to my class tomorrow."

And all he could say was, "Ok."

* * *

Chapter 3: Baby Blues

Harry yawned deeply, and rolled over, burying his face in Ginny's silky auburn locks. She moaned softly, but did not wake, and curled into him.

And then, in the blink of an eye, she was sitting up, her breath staggering to get out. Harry shot up next to her, immediately suffering from the same restriction.

"Hermione," Ginny gasped, clutching the front of her nightdress. "Ron!"

Before they knew it, they were in such a tight bear hug they could hardly breathe or move.

"When did you wake up?" Harry all but demanded, both excited and worried for his fated friends. "Are you alright? Were you hurt?"

"We're fine," Hermione laughed, grabbing his arms in an attempt to calm him. Of course she knew they would react this way, and still it made her laugh. "Really."

"They wouldn't let us near you for the longest time," Ginny said. "Not until Harry through a fit." Harry blushed madly, but didn't deny his actions.

"Yeah, they mentioned that," Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked to Hermione, who couldn't help her coy smile. They had yet to notice that he and Hermione were holding hands, that they were _together_. "Do you know what happened?"

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, as if to ask, "Did he just ask _us_ what happened?"

"We were wondering the same thing," Ginny said. "No one would tell us anything. All they said was you two were out cold." She wrinkled her nose, as if she'd just smelt rotten food, and added, "Malfoy was in there too. I couldn't believe they'd put him in a bed near you two. He probably _almost died_ again."

Hermione sighed and smiled. So they didn't know about Malfoy being found with them. Perfect. Now they could tell them what little they knew and leave that minor fact out. What did it matter in the long run anyway?

"So?" Harry pressed.

"Well," Hermione began, but it was at that moment that Ginny finally noticed what had been so strange about them.

"You're together!" she exclaimed, tackling them into a hug. "I can't believe it! Finally!"

Harry smiled knowingly and patted his friend on the shoulder. There was no need to say anything. He knew how long Ron had fancied Hermione. It was only a matter of time before they got together.

"When did this happen?"

"Today," Hermione laughed, kissing Ron on the cheek. He blushed and pulled her closer. It still felt slightly strange that they were finally together, but not as strange as being apart. For so long they had both wanted the other, and now that they had them, there was no separating. Not ever. "There's something we should tell you."

Harry tensed and took Ginny's hand firmly in his.

"You should sit," Ron suggested, and then was silent, allowing Hermione to tell the tale. Their friends sat, nearly clinging to one another, as if that would protect them from the shocking nature of the truth.

"Let me just say first that we don't really know exactly what happened. And we're sorry for any lies we might have told you in the past, but…but we don't remember." She waited for them to comment, put their mouths were sealed shut. They were going to give her the benefit of the doubt, and listen to her before they said a word. "We were found by the lake. Someone, we don't know who, cast a spell. Dumbledore is sure it was neither of us, but there's no evidence of who it could have been…The spell," she sighed, "backfired. We lost a great deal of our memories."

"Your memories?" Ginny gasped. "How much?" What else could she say? This was the wizarding world, and here anything could go wrong. They were not surprised that it'd happened, only that it had happened to their friends. And with such dire consequences.

"That last memories we have are of a few weeks before sixth year finals. The entire summer is gone, as well as the first month of our seventh year…But that isn't our _big_ news."

"I—" Ginny began, but stopped short when she realized she had nothing to say.

"There isn't an easy way to say this." She sucked in as much air as she could, letting it out in slow, even puffs. This was it. There was no more stalling. She wished she'd waited, talked things over with Ron first, before plunging ahead into the future. What was a couple of days in the grand scheme of things? She hadn't even contacted her parents yet to let them know she was alright! "I…We," she corrected, motioning her head in Ron's direction, "are going to be parents."

Harry's eyes lit up immediately, and he sprang to his feet, suffocating his friends with his arms. He was so excited for them, that he almost didn't notice Ginny's apprehension.

"What's wrong, honey?"

"It doesn't make any sense," she blurted out, almost angrily. "Just last week you were saying how you thought you'd be a virgin until you were twenty! And now you're _pregnant_!"

"Please don't be angry, Gin," Hermione sighed. "I really don't know what to tell you. We don't remember what happened. I don't know why we never told you we were together for so long, but we're telling you now."

"What do you mean, 'for so long'?"

"I'm three months pregnant."

"_Three_ months!" Ginny spat. Harry went to her side and attempted to calm her, to pull her into a hug, but she only pushed him away as if he were the one she was upset with. "I cannot believe this! Is this…" She rose off the bed, pointing a jagged finger at her best friend. "Is _this_ the thing you were going to tell me the night you two were taken to the infirmary? That you've been screwing _my brother_ for God knows how long and now you're pregnant with his child?"

"I…I guess so," Hermione murmured, trying desperately to keep eye contact. Why did all of her friends have to have such fiery tempers?

"You guess so!"

"Yes!" Now she was fed up. Where did Ginny get off yelling at her like that! She'd just been through a traumatic experience and found out she was pregnant. She did _not_ need to be berated by her friends too. "How the hell am I supposed to justify my actions when I don't know what the hell I did! I made some mistakes, Ginny. Clearly I'm paying for them, or have you not been listening? I was cursed, I lost my memory, and I'm three months pregnant, but as far as I remember I'm still a damn virgin! So you can quit your little poor me act and start being the friend I need, because if I don't have you then I don't know how I'm going to get through this! I need you more than you know and all you can do is yell at me for something I don't even remember doing! For all we know I was _forced_to lie!"

"By who!" Ginny retorted, her bottom lip quivering with the threat of oncoming tears. But she wasn't going to give in that easily.

"Your guess is as good as mine," she hissed sourly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed." She stalked over to the door, only stopping in the doorway for an instant to say, "Maybe you'll have come to your senses in the morning," and then was gone.

Ron and Harry stared after her, their eyes shifting to Ginny as a thick silence settled. Ron muttered something about "unbelievable little sisters", then he too was gone. For a long while neither said a word, though there were a million and one things floating through both their heads. How to voice their thoughts, however, was the challenge. The love they shared for one another conflicted with the feelings they had on the current situation. Harry was elated for his friends and wished them nothing but the best, while Ginny was bitter about the fact that she'd been left in the dark and lied to by her best friend.

"I think you crossed the line," Harry finally said.

Ginny was so appalled she couldn't speak.

"Hermione came in here looking for her friends, and you turned your back on her. She and Ron need our support and friendship, not revenge for something as silly as keeping a secret."

"But I—"

"You were awful, Ginny. I expected better from you."

"Don't talk to me like you're my mother," she sneered, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I wouldn't have to if you knew how to treat people like human beings. Good night, Ginny."

* * *

"Draco!" Pansy cried, jumping into his arms as he walked casually into the common room. For being so late, the room was surprisingly full and bustling with Slytherins. He wondered what kept them up, but he wasn't curious enough to ask. After the night he'd had what he needed was a good, long night's sleep in his bed. Alone. Not that he didn't enjoy the many female companions he shared his bed with, but tonight wasn't the night for that. He had neither the energy nor the patience to deal with any one of them.

"Shove off, Parkinson," he scoffed. "I'm not in the mood for clingy half-wit fuck buddies."

Her face paled to bone white, her mouth jabbering on without forming a single word. The room around them plunged into an abyss of silence, eyes shifting through the room, grasping for an understanding of the situation before them.

"When did you wake up?" Goyle asked from his place on the big leather sofa by the fire. He hadn't bothered to rise upon his friend's entrance. In fact, he'd hardly given him a second glance. Draco had a strong, nagging suspicion that his absence was not fully missed by the entire house.

"An hour ago," he said shortly. "Looks like your moment of glory is up, friend."

Goyle rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the pajama-clad blonde at his side, her spindly long legs crossed over his lap. Draco surprised himself, yet again, with the amount of self-control he possessed. Not only had Goyle tried to take his place as master of Slytherin House, but he'd stolen one of his more commendable bed partners. Not that she was overly worthy to him, but the idea of someone taking something of his was almost unbearable.

Of course he'd been aware for some time that his standing in the house was slipping. More and more students regarded him less as a threat and more as a nuisance every day. Had his short absence been the final kick out the door? Was he no longer feared, but laughed at behind closed doors?

He shivered inwardly at the thought, and made his way for his room. He'd worry about this quasi-rebellion in the morning. Pansy attempted to follow him, only to kiss the door that was slammed in her face.

The shift in power was no news to her, and neither was Draco's dislike for her and all others. Since the end of last term he hadn't been himself, and Pansy figured this was when things started to change. He paid less and less attention to the house and everything he used to hold dear, until one day he didn't notice even the most blatant disrespect, brushing it by like a rude wind. And then he was out the door, off to his new life, a world of intricate secrets no one even tried to speculate about.

She sighed sorrowfully and headed off to her own room. Perhaps she would have the answers someday, but for now she would have to be satisfied to sit alone in the dark.

"Nothing I'm not used to," she muttered to herself, then shut off the light.

* * *

"Don't worry about her," Ron said, rubbing Hermione's belly in soothing slow circles. He'd managed to catch her seconds before she ascended the Girls' Dormitory staircase. They were cozied up on the couch now, curled together like a long-time couple. "She'll come around soon enough."

"That's not what I'm worried about," she retorted almost bitterly, as if he'd purposely insulted her. "I think I have a little more to worry about than what Ginny thinks about me. We still have to figure out how all of this happened. And—" She lowered her voice significantly, leaning in to his ear. "—we haven't the faintest idea how _Malfoy_ is involved."

"He's not _involved_," Ron snorted. "He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I mean, what other explanation can you think of?"

"Yeah, well," she scoffed, "Dumbledore seems to think—"

"Dumbledore wasn't there. Besides, if we don't regain our memories in a few months then he'll give us a potion for it. Problem solved."

"I suppose you're right. It's just…It's so hard to picture the three of us found together by the lake."

"I know what you mean," he muttered. "I've been trying to forget that minor detail."

"Minor! Ron! He could be—"

"If there's any way you would even begin to believe that then I think you need to get your head checked."

"Dumbledore seemed perfectly adamant about it."

"Well, like I said before, he wasn't there. What's he know?"

"When has he ever been wrong, Ron?"

"Hermione!" he baulked, and shrunk back as if her words had scalded him somehow. "Why are you even still _thinking_ about that! In what universe could that ever happen?"

"Ok, ok," she sighed, her hands raised in surrender. "Forget I said anything."

"Don't be upset, 'Mione," he cooed, kissing at her neck. She remained rigid, with her arms crossed over her chest. "I just don't want you worrying over something so useless. There's no sense in getting worked up for no reason." She held stiff however. That is, until his long fingers made their way across her still-taut belly. She clamped her mouth shut, holding her breath, but it proved to be impossible and she burst into a fit of laughter.

"You're such a pain," Hermione breathed, her arms wrapped around her stomach in an effect to ease the tingling sensation.

"Yeah," he laughed. "But you still love me."

"And you're damn lucky I do."

"'Mione?"

"Hmm?" She looked up at him, her head now resting on his lap as he played absently with her soft brown curls.

"How are we going to tell our parents?"

"I don't know, Ron," she yawned. "Can we discuss it in the morning?"

"Sure." He kissed the top of her head and eased back into the soft cushions. She had just dozed off, and he was right behind her, when Harry came quietly down the Boys' stairs, his face drawn, his eyes hollow. "Rough night, huh?"

"I'll say," Harry groaned, plopping into the chair beside his friends. "Your sister can be so unbelievable."

"I tried to warn you," Ron laughed. "She's just like mum."

"Yeah, well, all I know is that she better get over it soon. Hermione's going to need her."

"Thanks Harry."

"For what?"

"For not flipping out like Ginny did…I don't know how we got ourselves into this mess, but, you know what?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry answered with a knowing smile.

"Exactly."

* * *

Hermione ran her hands over her belly, a soft smile playing on her plump pink lips. She turned sideways in the full-length mirror, bending back slightly to accentuate her non-existent bump. The lilac sundress she wore did nothing to hide her figure, hugging her curves in all the right places. It would be a few months before this dress wouldn't fit anymore, and by then it would be winter and she'd have no use for it.

When she first found out, the prospect of becoming a mother—and such a young one at that—had terrified her completely. But, over the past couple of days, she'd grown accustomed to the idea, and was even feeling giddy. She knew that with a baby came a boatload of responsibilities, but, at the same time, it could be the most exciting experience of her life. She was to have a little life forming inside of her, a child that was half hers. A little witch or wizard that she could pass all of her knowledge and skill on to. It didn't matter if it was a boy or a girl, only that it was healthy with all ten fingers and toes. It didn't even matter if he or she was a squib with no magical abilities whatsoever, though she highly doubted that, what with the parentage they had. A muggle-born witch and a pureblooded wizard. There really was no way her child couldn't be magical, and even great. Perhaps she was carrying in her at that very moment the next Dumbledore. The idea was almost too much for her to handle and she erupted into uncontrollable giggles.

It seemed she couldn't stop laughing, until she felt a disturbance in the air, and spun on her heals to come face to face with the father of her yet-to-be-born baby.

"I told you not to apparate into my bathroom," she scolded, but, nonetheless, fell into his arms. He rolled his eyes and sighed, though couldn't help his smile. He too had become comfortable with the idea of being a father. Though he was nowhere near as excited as Hermione was. "I missed you." She kissed him full on the mouth, her fingers drifting into his soft just-showered hair.

"I think you should tell your parents soon."

"What about your parents?"

"I thought we agreed not—"

"I meant, how are they?"

"That's what I came over to tell you." He took a deep breath and kissed her forehead. "They're dead."

* * *

Draco's eyes snapped open and he sat up, surveying his room to determine the time of night. It had been such a vivid dream; her in his arms, soft and warm and loving him. It had been like nothing he'd ever felt before. And he'd—dare he think it—liked how it felt.

He fell back onto his pillows, sighing loudly.

"Well, that was unexpected."

* * *

Well, there you go. A nice long third chapter to my new story :) This is the length I'm going to stay at for the rest of it, unless something comes up and I only have half a chapter done and can't get on my computer for a while. Hopefully I'll be getting a summer job soon, so who knows how much time I'll have for this.

Well, I hope everyone liked this chapter. I cracked open a few doors, but we are nowhere near getting inside the rooms, heehee. Be patient, I like to take my time getting through things.

REVIEW:D


	4. The Truth Shall Set You Free?

Recap:

Draco's eyes snapped open and he sat up, surveying his room to determine the time of night. It had been such a vivid dream; her in his arms, soft and warm and loving him. It had been like nothing he'd ever felt before. And he'd—dare he think it—liked how it felt.

He fell back onto his pillows, sighing loudly.

"Well, that was unexpected."

* * *

Chapter 4: The Truth Shall Set You Free?

Draco groaned and threw the covers back. He couldn't stand it anymore. For two weeks this had been going on, and he was determined to put an end to it. Quickly he got dressed, pulling on his robes last as he stepped into the hall. It was early morning, too early on a Saturday for students to be up yet. Even Quidditch players. That is, of course, unless you're a memory-warped bookworm looking to catch-up on any missed—or forgotten—lessons.

He found her soon enough, picking absently at her breakfast in the Great Hall, a mountain of books piled around her. She was one of a handful of students down at breakfast. And she was the only seventh year, other than him. But he certainly did _not_ want to be there.

"Granger."

She jumped at the sound of his voice, spilling her juice in the process.

"It's bad enough that I have to deal with you in class _and_ for Heads' duties. What do you want Malfoy?"

"Hormones acting up this morning?"

"Bite me," she hissed, taking a very large and unladylike bite of her muffin. "Now, what do you want? I'm busy."

"I'm trying to be civil with you, Granger."

"Keep trying."

"We need to talk," he said firmly, and took an uninvited seat beside her.

"About?" She was only half paying attention to him now, her nose back in her Transfiguration book.

"I don't think Weasley's the father of your baby."

She laughed so hard she nearly choked on her muffin.

"And by that you mean to suggest that _you_ are?" This was too funny. She wished Ron were here to hear it. He'd definitely bust a seam when she told him later. Sure, she'd had her doubts that first night, but she'd been lost and scared and susceptible to what Dumbledore had said. After two weeks she'd found her senses.

"That is exactly what I'm suggesting," he snapped. "And you can stop laughing because the joke's on you. _I_ have nothing to lose."

"Nothing?" she asked, laughter still evident in her voice.

"Yes, nothing."

"Not your glory? Your honor? The respect of your parents?"

She was mocking him, and he would _not_ stand for it!

"They never did respect me even when they were alive. I don't expect much from them now."

Hermione was noticeably taken aback by this revelation. The Malfoys were dead?

"Malfoy—"

"Shut up for two seconds and hear me out." She couldn't have spoken even if she had something to say. "For the past two weeks I have been having God awful nightmares. And they have led me to one possible conclusion—I'm the father."

"I can think of a million conclusions before that," she spat, finding her voice. "They're just what you said: nightmares. What Dumbledore said spooked you. That's all."

"They're too real to be dreams," he groaned, frustrated with her doubt. Though he hadn't really thought she'd believe him right off the bat.

"Fine," she said. "Let's pretend, for the sake of argument, that you are the father. Why are you so calm about it? I'm a 'filthy mudblood', remember? Isn't that against your code?"

"Well I'm not thrilled."

"And what's your reasoning for how it happened? You seduced me and I fell head over heals in love with you?"

He smirked, but said nothing. Yeah, he had been thinking along those lines. Obviously he knew that was _not_ the case, but it was still amusing to fantasize about it. After all, she was one of the most eligible and gorgeous girls in the school—just because she was a mudblood didn't mean he couldn't _think_ that way about her. There was no unwritten rule against that.

"Whatever," she huffed, gesturing for him to go. "Leave me alone, Malfoy. I have work to do."

"Have it your way," he sighed and stood, grabbing an apple off her plate for good measure. "Come fine me when you learn the truth yourself. Maybe I'll entertain the idea of letting you have joint custody."

And before she could retort, he was gone and her day was officially ruined. Leave it to Malfoy.

* * *

"Are you serious?" Ron laughed, throwing his head back.

Hermione nodded and smiled, internally mesmerizing by his eyes and the way his hair fell so perfectly over them. He had really grown up this summer. Not that he hadn't been well on his way already, but there was definitely a big change in him.

"And that's not all I learned today."

His ears perked and he leaned forward, a slit of moonlight hitting his face from the part in the drawn curtains around his bed.

"His parents are dead."

"No way!"

"I didn't believe it at first either. But I did some poking around, and it's true. They died a month or so ago in Azkaban. Apparently right after a visit from their golden child."

"Malfoy must have blown a gasket when he found out," he laughed. "No more How To Become A Death Eater 101 for him."

Hermione laughed along with him, though inside her heart wasn't in it. Yes Malfoy was their enemy, and yes he'd been nothing but cruel to them from day one, but that didn't mean he deserved to be laughed at for his misfortunes. Not something this big anyway. Though, to be fair, she didn't see any hurt at all when she looked at him that morning in the Great Hall. Not that she doubted his grief. He'd had some time to let it sink in, and perhaps he was still in denial. Maybe trying to ruffle her feathers about the baby was his way of coping. She hoped to God that that was the reason, because if it was what she was feeling in her gut, then she and Ron had little to laugh about.

"Ron."

"Yeah?" He pulled her to him, sweetly kissing her forehead. She sighed, running her hands over his rock-hard chest and abs. She wondered if all Quidditch players were this toned, this gorgeous with and without their clothes. Ron certainly was, she thought, blushing slightly. It was still amazing to her that she and Ron had slept together, even if she did known she was carrying his child. All previous memories of his body and their time together were completely gone. Not that making new, more exciting, memories was a problem, but she still thought it would be nice to _really_ know what her first time had been like.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" She was shaking just thinking about it.

"I'll be right there with you, 'Mione."

"That's not what I asked. Are you nervous?"

"I…I'm terrified, if you must know."

"Do we really need to tell them—all of them—tomorrow? I mean, shouldn't we wait until I have the paternity test in two weeks?"

"What difference will that make?" But they both had been thinking the same thing. There was still that one in one zillionth chance. "Look, we have to tell them sooner or later. And, seeing as you're already three and a half months along, I think they should know. They will ask questions when your belly balloons up, you know."

"Don't be cute," she sighed, forcing down her smile. "This is going to be really hard. I mean, Gin's still not talking to me—not that I want to talk to her—and now this. Your mother is going to have kittens when she finds out."

"That'll be a change for her, huh?"

"Ronald!"

"Sorry…What about your parents? What'd'you think they'll say?"

"More like do," she groaned and pulled the blankets up to cover her now-shivering naked form. "If I weren't top student they'd probably pull me from Hogwarts and put me in a muggle school. It's anyone's guess what they'll do…But I don't see acceptance in the near future, especially when I neglected to tell them about the little memory-loss incident."

"Yeah," Ron sighed. He had also not told his parents, though, through the grapevine, his father had heard and told his mother, who in turn sent him a howler that he thankfully received in the dormitory, which drastically reduced the incidence of rumors. Which were of course truths, but the whole school didn't need to be involved in his affairs. As it was someone—and he knew just who that _someone_ was—had leaked that Hermione was pregnant and expecting in six months. She was asked nearly everyday by some other half-wit under classman if she was actually going to keep the baby, or if she was leaving school and would graduate later on. For the most part she ignored these people, brushing them off with few words. Unless, of course, her hormones took hold and then that unlucky student wound up deaf for a week.

"They're going to disown me," she said, lacking enthusiasm. She was physically and mentally drained today.

"They're going to have to accept it sooner or later, baby. I mean, who could deny you for long?" He pulled her closer, and kissed her lips, sinking lower into the soft sheets. He was beat too—Quidditch had been more than rough that afternoon.

"Ginny, that's who," she sneered.

"Don't think about her right now. Let's get some sleep. We're going to need it for tomorrow."

* * *

The room was alive with sound and movement and color. It was like a ballet, the way everyone moved around, their gestures in sync and playing off one another.

Hermione sat slumped on the couch in her living room back at home, her elbows jabbed onto her knees, her chin resting in her hands. She would have tried to cover her ears, but nothing could keep the raging noise out. And she'd long since given up on trying to have her voice heard. Ron was still in the game, but by the looks of things, it was clear that he was nearly ready to throw in the towel as well.

"Ok! Ok!"

Her head snapped up at the sheer volume and intensity of her mother's voice.

"Forget about this outrageous _baby_ business for a minute." Mrs. Weasley didn't even attempt to conceal her contempt. "Why weren't we informed about the accident Hermione was in? Shouldn't the school have told us? Or are we not _magical_ enough!"

"Magical ability has nothing to do with it!" Mrs. Weasley yelled, her fists clenched and shaking at her sides. It was a wonder she hadn't taken a swing at anyone yet. "We were never sent an owl either, Mrs. Granger! Arthur had to hear about it through the rumor mill at the office!"

"And no one felt compelled to inform _us_?"

"Stop it!"

The room went so completely silent one would think there hadn't been sound there for years. Hermione stood shaking in the middle of the crowd of angry adults. For a majority of the fighting she'd remained quiet, allowing their parents to get everything out before she or Ron tried civil, rational conversation. Now she saw that any chance of that was completely out the window.

"I didn't tell you for this exact reason! I was terrified and the _only_ reason I'm here right now is because Ron convinced me that you would at least hear us out—I see we were both terribly wrong."

"Talk," her father said without skipping a beat, his brow narrowing ever further, if that were at all possible. Thankfully—if Hermione allowed herself to think in positives—the Weasleys were taking the news rather well and were on her and Ron's side. "We're listening."

"I—" She began, but was cut off promptly when Mrs. Granger had a startling revelation.

"Just one minute," she snapped, stamping her foot like a child throwing a temper-tantrum. "You say you're three and a half months pregnant?" Hermione nodded stiffly, her arms latching around her belly with motherly vice-grip tenderness. "And that you and Ron were in some sort of magical accident where you lost nearly the same amount of time in memory?" Again she nodded, having a bad feeling about where she was headed with this. If it was what she was thinking, then all hell would break loose. Again. "Then how do you know, without a doubt, that Ron is the father!"

Mrs. Weasley was across the room, her hands stretched out before her, in a matter of seconds. Mr. Weasley was hot on her tail, and managed to successfully pull of back and sit her down on the opposite side of the room as Hermione's parents.

"How dare you think such things about your own daughter!" Mrs. Weasley scolded, fanning her face to try to keep from crying. "She came here needing support and all you can do is accuse her of being a harlot!"

A pang of anger and pain shot through Hermione so fast she almost needed to catch her breath. It was two weeks all over again when Ginny had been on the receiving end of such a comment from Harry. And though she didn't want to admit it to anyone else, she was in agony with the loss of her closest girl friend. She wished every day that the pain and anxiety would just end, and she wished she knew what had been going through her mind four months before when she kept such an enormous secret from her. If only patching things up were as simple as a timid smile and a hug, the way she'd seen it happen between her and Harry a few days after the news was out.

"Please," Hermione said, stepping in and giving Mrs. Weasley and warm thank you smile. "I can't stand this anymore. I know how hard this must be for everyone, but I know there's some middle ground we can reach. In eight months we'll be out of school—"

"The baby will come in five, Hermione," her father reminded her, like a jab in a salted wound.

"Do you want me to get an abortion!" she screamed, nearly jumping at him in her rage. "Or give the baby up for adoption! Is that where you want this fighting to lead? Because you can't change what's happened with a loud voice and an angry scowl. I'm having a baby, no matter how you feel about it. And me and Ron will raise him or her. And someday you might see it in you to be happy for us, to see how happy this makes us." Her face was soaked with tears before she even realized she was crying. "But I guess until then we're just going to have to have this awful rift between us, because I _refuse_ to do anything less than what's best for my baby!"

"Hermione?"

She turned on her heal and smiled at Mr. Weasley.

"Yes?"

"We must know," he said cautiously. "Is there any chance, at all, that this child is not Ron's? The information I have says there was another boy involved in the accident."

One could almost feel the pure malice the Grangers were giving off.

The fear that her anger had so successfully chased away returned at record speed, leaving her feeling almost dizzy. She clung to Ron, who urged her on with a kiss on the head.

"I don't think—"

"Give us a straight answer, Hermione!" her mother berated.

"Yes!" she cried, collapsing into Ron's strong arms. "But don't ask me how, because as far as I knew, before the accident I was a _virgin_! And the _boy_ in question is someone I hate with such intensity I hardly understand how we survive being in the same school together!"

"And just who is this other boy?" Her parents were definitely _not_ ones for pity.

"His name is Draco Malfoy, and if he's the father then I might as well kill myself now because my life would be over."

* * *

Well I think that's as good a place as any to stop. Heehee! Woo! There was some anger in that chapter. Ouch! Hermione's parents are obviously not happy with how their daughter spends her free time at school. Thank God Ron's parents are a little more understanding.

Wooo! REVIEW! Or die! Muhahahahaha:P


	5. And The Father Is

Recap:

"And just who is this other boy?" Her parents were definitely _not_ ones for pity.

"His name is Draco Malfoy, and if he's the father then I might as well kill myself now because my life would be over."

* * *

Chapter 5: And The Father Is... 

"Are you sure it's ok for us to leave?" Mr. Weasley asked, his eyes drifting to the couch in the Gryffindor common room.

"Yeah," Ron whispered, ushering them towards the fireplace. "She'll be fine. She…" He glanced back at her, catching her distant, listless eyes. "She was expecting that."

"I just can't believe how awful her parents were," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "I mean, this is definitely not what we had planned for your future, but we can see that you're happy. You and Hermione are finally together, that's all that really matters right now. You don't know how long I've been waiting for to see you together."

"Mother!" He hated the idea of people convening behind his back, discussing what they thought he _should_ do. It was his life and he would live it at his pace and how he wanted. "Just…Please go. I need to get her to bed."

"Are _you_ going to be ok, Ron?"

"I'll be fine mom," he said stiffly, kissing her cheek.

"And the baby?"

"What about it?"

"How do you feel about it?"

"I…I'm still getting used to the idea. Hermione's thrilled, minus the rift with her parents."

"Do you _want_ this baby?"

"Ron?"

They looked up to see Hermione slowly drifting towards them.

"Good night mother."

* * *

_"What the hell is going on!" Ron demanded, latching onto the door frame for support._

_"Ron!" Hermione cried out, hastily pulling on her robe as she snatched up the clothes that littered the floor, as if he were angry about the mess. "What are you—"_

_"Doing here?" he barked, taking an unstable step into the room. "Why don't you answer my question first!"_

_"Ron, please," she begged, coming to his side. "You can't tell anyone. Please."_

_"He _won't_ tell anyone," Draco said, wrapping the bed sheet around his waist to cover his naked body. "Not unless he wants me to curse him."_

_"Stay out of it Draco!"_

_"Yeah," Ron sneered. "This is between me and Hermione. Or at least she _used_ to be Hermione."_

_"What are you doing here, Ron?" she sighed, her face stained red with embarrassment and exertion. "I told you I didn't want to see you for a while. Not after—"_

_"I came to return these," he said through his teeth, and shoved a canvas bag full of books at her. "You left them under my bed at school."_

_"Thanks," she murmured, and set the bag down beside her._

_"Where are your parents?" All of his previous fire had been utterly extinguished. He knew he was in the wrong in coming here. They had not parted for the summer on good terms, and she had adamantly expressed her need for space. He was still angry and hurt, of course, by what he'd walked in on, only something in her eyes told him now was not the time for it._

_"France. My dad got a bonus, so they decided to take a second honeymoon." She looked over her shoulder and smiled meekly at Draco. "Get dressed. I'll be back in a few minutes."_

_"Where—"_

_"Ron and I need to discuss some things."_

_"But—"_

_"I'll be right back."_

Draco brushed his teeth with such unnecessary aggression you'd think he had a personal vendetta against them. When he was done assaulting his mouth, he re-checked his hair in the mirror, then rushed out of the bathroom, snatching up a red leather notebook off the back of the toilet. He settled into his favorite chair by the fireplace, opening the notebook to a clean page and began to write. The book was nearly half filled already, and there was little doubt in his mind that it wouldn't be totally filled in the next week.

"Let's see her deny me when she reads this," he said under his breath, writing every thing he remembered, in perfect detail, right down to the way her bed-messed hair flopped over her right eye. Or that one of the loops of her bathrobe was torn and the sash drooped slightly in that spot.

It was a book of the dreams he'd been having, what he now dubbed memory-dreams, because he was convinced they were memories. The first twelve or so entries were scatter-brained and full of holes. But the next ten—including the one he feverishly scribbled now—were flawless descriptions of his dreams. She would read it, he reasoned, and then she too would remember. Not that any of the memories showed _how_ they got together, or how she ended up pregnant, or how Ron was involved the night their memories were erased—but at least she would be forced to at least consider the possibility that he fathered her baby.

He set the notebook on the coffee table in front of him and sunk low in his chair, his mind still swirling as he recalled his most recent memory-dream. Somehow, somewhere, he and Hermione came together. And not only for a one-night stand—as he had often fantasized about her—but they had actually stayed together and planned on raising their child together, like a family. They were a couple, shrouded in secrecy. And when Ron had busted in on them at Hermione's home that summer, their entire world crumbled. Draco was convinced that that was the moment when things started to go wrong. That was when Ron became involved, the moment that led to the scene by the lake. He had accepted all of this and, with each new dream, he became more and more accustomed to the idea of having a relationship with Hermione. Naturally, at first he had been repulsed by the idea, though freely used his dreams against her to try to rile her up. But the more he thought about it, and the more he saw them together—and happy—in his mind, the more he wanted that former reality for now. Never in his life had he hoped for a glimpse of happiness, a real shot at a normal life. From birth his course had been plotted by his parents and those who controlled them. Now they were gone and this new opportunity had fallen into his lap. He was no longer bound to his parents' fate, and therefore he could choose to pursue this strange and unfamiliar territory involving a muggle-born.

But, because the concept, and everything surrounding it, was so foreign to him, he had no clue whatsoever of how to begin. The notebook would only go so far as to get her to listen, if it worked. From there, his life was in his hands, and for the first time in his life he was truly terrified. His parents never scared him. The Death Eaters were nothing. Even Voldemort was only a name to him.

No. He was afraid of happiness, for the simple reason that he didn't know how to _be_ happy.

If he didn't want to screw this perfect chance up, then he was going to need some help.

But from who?

* * *

"Is this really necessary?" Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes. Ten minutes ago Draco had stopped her in the hall and practically forced her into an empty classroom, shoving a notebook at her. "We're supposed to meet Dumbledore and Ron in the infirmary at five, and it's five of." 

"I said I'd leave you alone if you'd just read the damn book."

"Well clearly you want me to get something from it," she said, trying to hand it back. "Look Malfoy, I'm not buying it. Yes I believe you had the dreams, but I still think it's something your mind is making up because you've worked yourself up over all this. And it's entirely irrational, because if you would just think for a moment then you'd see that there's no way me and you got close enough to have a baby."

"Do I look worked up to you?" he asked calmly, wrenching the notebook out of her arms. She was glad to let him have it. She didn't want to read one more word about her kissing or hugging or being _near_ Malfoy. "Do I sound wild or crazed? Have I been out of control?"

"No, but—"

"What I wrote in here," he said, waving the book an inch from her nose, "is what happened. It's pieces of the past, and I'm putting it back together. I'm going to figure out _exactly_ what happened. You can help me or not, I don't care. But make your decision after you find out I'm the father."

"Malfoy—"

"Come on," he cut her off, turning for the door. "Like you said, Weasley and Dumbledore are waiting."

* * *

Hermione felt completely naked as she sat on the hospital bed, surrounded by everyone. Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall stood close to her and the others, hovering like vultures for the news. Ron sat beside her, and Draco was on the bed opposite them, his nose wrinkled in disdain. All three adorned small bandages from where Madame Pompfrey had drawn blood, though Hermione's was hidden under her shirt. And she was now in a room off the infirmary, using a tricky medical spell on the blood to determine paternity. 

The past month had gone by in such a blur and—with the exception of her parents' outrage—Hermione was in pure bliss. She had yet to reconcile with them, or Ginny, but she had Ron and for now that was all she needed. She would have loved for Harry to be here right now too, if for nothing more than to see the look on Malfoy's face when Madame Pompfrey announced Ron was the father, but they had been given strict orders that only the three of them were to be present. That, and the fact that the group convened in the infirmary were the only ones who knew about Malfoy's involvement. And after today no one ever had to know.

She wondered what Draco would do when he found out he wasn't the father of his imagined baby. Not that she cared. She was only curious, and a bit nervous—what if he told someone about what _almost_ happened. She seriously doubted that, but the threat was still there. If this got out she would have _no_ chance to patching things up with Ginny.

"Ok children."

The room stood still as Madame Pompfrey shuffled back into the room. In her head she held the information that could potentially shatter everyone's lives that sat on the cots. Her solemn expression told them that she knew this, and she did not take her job as the informant lightly.

"How would you like me to do this? Tell all three of you at once, or take Hermione aside and let her tell you herself?"

Surprisingly, both Ron _and_ Draco motioned towards Hermione to make the decision. She would have expected that from Ron, but Draco? What the hell was wrong with the universe?

Reluctantly she stood and followed Madame Pompfrey into the room she'd just exited moments before. She was asked to take a seat beside the desk to make her "more comfortable". She wanted to tell the nurse that there was nothing that could make her comfortable in this moment, but her tongue seemed to have doubled in size.

"Whatever the result," the older woman said, leaning against the desk, "please know that myself and the rest of the staff will be here for you one hundred percent. If you need anything don't hesitate to ask. And you will be required to come in for check-ups regularly, free of charge. Unless you plan to go to a doctor back home, that is."

"No, no," Hermione said quickly, her features twisted into an unreadable expression. "I won't be going home much at all this year. And thank you, I'm really in the dark about everything I should do…This," she laughed bitterly, "is the first time in my life I haven't been absolutely prepared for something."

"Well," Madame Pompfrey said, giving her shoulder a gentle pat, "that's what we're here for. And the Headmaster wanted me to tell you that you should report to his office sometime in the next week to discuss what you plan to do in five months when the baby is born, and if you plan to gradu—"

"I _will_ be graduating on time," she interrupted. "I just haven't figured everything out yet. But I will," she assured her, trying to assure herself. "I'll talk to Dumbledore and straighten everything out. There has to be a way for me to graduate in the Spring."

"Where are you and the baby going to live, Hermione?"

"At home," she said quickly, without thought. Then sighed and frowned, hanging her head. "My parents didn't take the news well at all, Madame Pompfrey. They practically banished me and I haven't heard from them in two weeks since I told them…I don't know where we'll live, but I'll work something out with Ron—"

"The baby is Draco's, Hermione."

"—and his family—What did you say?" It had almost sounded like—

"The baby," she said, this time more slowly, "is _not_ Ron's. It's Draco's. Draco is the father."

"You're wrong!" Hermione yelled, bolting out of her chair, her finger pointing almost accusingly at the woman who, only moments before, had been her savior with offers of free medical assistance and moral support. Of course she knew that this was no one's fault but her own, but the mere idea—No, there had to be a mistake. "Your spell was faulty. That can't be right! It makes no sense!"

"Hermione please!" the nurse just about begged, pulling her patient into her arms, stroking her curly brown locks in an effort to calm her. Her efforts were in vein, however, as Hermione pounded her fists into her shoulders, demanding she be let go and another test administered, this time so she could see the results firsthand. "I performed two different tests, Hermione," she said, still holding her, still trying to coax her into rationality. "They both said the same thing. And I will help you get through this, but right now you need to calm yourself and accept what's happened. You can't change it. I'm sorry."

"Sorry!" she cried, her knees buckling, her tears soaking Madame Pompfrey's white nurse gown. "Sorry won't stop Ron from hating me! Sorry won't make this abomination in me disappear! And sorry won't keep Malfoy away from me! My life is over and I'm only seventeen!"

"You think your baby is an abomination?" Her voice sounded almost hurt.

"Now it is! It's half _Malfoy_ for God's sake! How am I supposed to raise a child with someone who I can barely tolerate knowing their alive!"

"Certainly it isn't all that bad."

"You don't know him." She shuddered violently and managed to free herself, fleeing to the farthest corner of the office. "He's going to take my baby from me! He said he would! He knew! He knew!" She was so choked with tears her words were hardly audible. "He had dreams and he knew he was the father! And he said he would take my baby from me and _maybe_ I would get joint custody! He's a monster! He can't be the father! He can't be! He—"

The door burst open with such force it was nearly taken off its hinges. Ron stood, stiff as a board, his jaw set and his eyes glistening. Dumbledore stood behind him, and beyond that Hermione couldn't tell who was who. It was painfully clear that they'd heard everything. Her hopes and dreams, her happiness, so palpable moments before, were now gone like a wisp of smoke, with no chance of return.

Her entire world was gone, and the worst part was she had no idea how.

"M-M-M…My-My…My baby," she mumbled, her fingers clawing at her belly. She wouldn't even _think_ about looking up at Ron, at anyone. If she had to she'd live the rest of her life in Madame Pompfrey's office if it meant never having to deal with the reality of her dire situation. "My baby…My baby is ruined…"

"I—" Ron began, but cut himself off, his cheeks flaring with anger. "You are not even worth my words," he spat, then fled from the room as if someone had chased him out.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed, running after him. Snape headed her off at the door, however, forcing her into the chair next to the desk. "My baby," she whispered, appearing almost drunk as she looked directly into the Headmaster's eyes. "My baby is ruined."

"Draco," Dumbledore said, motioning him into the room. He stepped in hesitantly, clinging to the walls. Hermione looked frenzied. There was no telling what she might do. And no one had confiscated her wand. "Hermione is in no condition to go back to her dormitory this evening. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to stay and keep an eye on her?"

"No problem," he said, refraining from his usual maliciousness when speaking to authority figures other than Professor Snape.

Hermione snapped out of her dazed state, lashing at the arms that held her.

"I am _not_ staying here, and I am _not_ spending another minute with _him_!"

"I," Draco said, coming forward finally, "am the father of your child. Accept it now or accept it later, but it is true and you will see just how committed I plan to be with our child."

"You won't come near me or my baby!" she hissed, and broke free from Snape's restraint. She had Draco's neck in her hands before anyone could blink, leaving her wand untouched and forgotten. Human instinct, not witch's sense, witch's rationality. "It's my baby! Mine!"

"Say it all you want," Draco seethed, prying her hands away. "That won't stop it from being true."

The adults stood and watched in stunned silence. All but Dumbledore, who knew it was best for them to work this out without their involvement. It was no secret that the two of them had been enemies from first year. And it was up to them—not the teachers, not their parents, not even their friends—to work out their differences in order to raise their child. Dumbledore knew in his heart that this was absolutely possible. The only question was: when?

"Why did you do this to me?" she cried, unaware of the fact that she was crying in Draco's arms, the same person she was presently censuring.

"I didn't do a thing to you," he shot back, making no attempt to push her away. "I told you the truth and you laughed in my face. You read it yourself. We were together. We were…happy. And you're too damn stubborn to admit it."

"But…But…_how_?"

"That's what I plan to figure out," he sighed, and rested his cheek on the top of her head. They were both too far gone in their own worlds to notice just what was happening. "And it'd be a hell of a lot easier if you helped me."

"Anything," she whispered. "I just want the truth…"

* * *

Harry had never felt so confused and left out in all his life. Yesterday Ron and Hermione had gone for a check-up to the infirmary, and fifteen minutes later only Ron returned, fuming mad and sealed himself in his bed, refusing to speak to anyone. It was twenty-four hours later and still he hadn't even attempt talking to anyone, only leaving his sanctuary to go to the bathroom, never to eat. Hermione had yet to come back, and when Harry sought her out, all he received was a rehearsed and useless answer from Madame Pompfrey. Something serious was going on, and no one would tell him a thing. 

"Do you think Hermione's hurt or something?" Harry asked of Ginny, who was trying to do her Potions homework in bed beside him.

"Do you really think Ron would be here if that were the case?" Ginny sighed, not at all interested in what he was saying. But she knew if she didn't answer him there would be no chance of her finishing her work before tomorrow's class.

"Maybe they won't let him in and that's why he's angry."

"That's not it and you know it," she said, letting her book fall into her lap. "Look, you're just going to have to wait for her to come back to find out. Unless Ron decides to come out of his hole before then."

"But Gin—"

"Give it a rest Harry. Please." She climbed off the bed and set her homework on the nightstand. "I'm going to go take a shower, and when I get back will you please let me do my work?"

Harry frowned and nodded. She was obviously determined to _not_ cooperate with him tonight.

"Thank you," she said, kissing him on the cheek before leaving the room.

He flopped back on his pillows and let out an exaggerated sigh, followed by a yawn. He closed his eyes and thought, "I'll take a nap while Ginny's in the shower," and he didn't wake up until the sun hit his face the next morning, Ginny nowhere to be found.

* * *

Well, now you all know :) Draco is the father and Hermione and Ron are none too pleased about it. I hope there are no complaints about how I've structured the story so far. I know it seems like I'm going awfully fast, but I promise you there is much MUCH more to this story. So don't you fret my lovelies :P 

REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!


	6. The Brink

Recap:

"Thank you," she said, kissing him on the cheek before leaving the room.

He flopped back on his pillows and let out an exaggerated sigh, followed by a yawn. He closed his eyes and thought, "I'll take a nap while Ginny's in the shower," and he didn't wake up until the sun hit his face the next morning, Ginny nowhere to be found.

* * *

Chapter 6: The Brink

Ginny shut off the water, rang out her hair, put it up in a towel, wrapped another towel around her dripping body, opened the shower stall and screamed.

"Hermione!' she cried, falling to her side under the sink, on the opposite side of the room.

"Ginny!" Hermione gasped, shrinking away as fast as she could before hitting the wall. She had been so far into her own world that she hadn't heard the shower running.

"Hermione, what the hell are you doing!" She grabbed her roughly by the arms, jerking her forward. The small thin razor fell, in seemingly slow motion, clanging to the floor. The gashes were deep and so red they appeared almost black, bubbling thick round pools that stretched and splashed to the smooth white tiles. And for nearly a full minute all Ginny could do was stare. She'd never seen anything like this before.

"My baby," she whispered, spit trailing from her lip. There was blood smeared on her clothes, and splotches of dried blood caked on her cheeks and chin and forehead, as if she'd run her arms all over her face. "My baby…My…"

"Hermione," Ginny wept, grabbing her face, kissing her nose. "Why did you do this? Hermione—"

"Because!" she cried, and slapped her hands away furiously. Her blood was getting everywhere. "Ron hates me! My parents hate me! You hate me! _I_ hate me! My life is ruined and my baby…my baby—"

"Is the baby alright!"

"My baby…"

"Hermione! Is the baby ok?"

"The baby's fine!" she screamed, scrambling to her feet. She clung to the sink for support, which she was slowly losing. "The baby's healthy!"

"Then what's wrong?" Neither were thinking about their fight a month before. Neither cared. It wasn't relevant anymore.

"You already hate me," she laughed. "Why not?"

Ginny ignored the chill that ran down her spine and gathered bandages and antiseptic from the cabinets. Her wounds were deep, but by no means life threatening.

"We didn't go to the infirmary for a check-up…There's something we didn't tell you about the night we were found by the lake—"

"Malfoy was with you," she blurted out, unsure of where the thought had come from.

"Yeah," she sighed and dropped to the floor. Ginny was immediately at her side, wrapping a towel around each arm and applying as much pressure as possible.

"How is he involved?" she asked to keep her talking. She looked about ready to pass out.

"You won't believe me. Hell! I didn't believe it. I cried and screamed and punched and kicked…That's why they kept me over night in the infirmary…That's why Ron came storming back up here."

"Wait." No, there was no way what she was thinking could be true. Not in a million upon a million upon a million years. "Ron is the father, right?"

Hermione sunk further to the ground, until she was lying down, and then she curled into a tight ball, pressing her towel-covered arms to her chest.

"No," she said after some time. "No, he's not the father."

"But that—"

"Makes no sense, I know," she sighed and took the bottle of rubbing alcohol from Ginny's hands. With her teeth she removed the towels and poured the stinging liquid over her wounds. The pain was enough to make her grit her teeth, but as far as she was concerned, she deserved it. When the alcohol had fully cleaned out the cuts, Ginny wrapped them just tight enough with gauze and medical tape, then pulled her friend into her arms, her head resting on her shoulder.

"You found out who the father was yesterday?"

She nodded, feeling surprisingly better. But only just a little. Still, that was something. That was a step away from where she'd just been: suicidal.

"And?"

"Who do you think it is?"

"I couldn't begin to guess if it's not Ron."

"Think," she said, pushing her face into her shoulder to quell the oncoming tears. "Who were we just talking about?"

"Malfoy!" she gasped. "But how! When? _Why_?"

"That was my reaction exactly."

"Hermione, what are you going to do? How are you going to raise this baby? I mean, does Malfoy want to be involved?" The words came in such a rush even Ginny had a hard time hearing them.

"Completely," she groaned. Of course he did, because that meant it would make her life miserable, what he aspired to every day of his life. "He's being so childish about the whole thing. He's actually taunting me!"

"I just don't see how this could have happened."

"I'm with you there…Our memories were cut off way before any sort of civility occurred between us."

"Do you think—" She lowered her voice significantly, bowing her head slightly. "—he…he _raped_ you?"

Hermione's body stiffened, then shuddered as a new onslaught of tears assaulted her.

"No," she cried. "He didn't…He's evil, but he's not _that_ evil. He actually wants what's best for the baby."

"You don't think there's the smallest chance that he could have?"

"No," she said quickly. "He's been having these dreams, memories of what happened. They're all scattered and some are blurry. He tried to convince me they were real before and I wouldn't believe him…But now, for some reason, I do."

"And what happened in these dreams of his?" Ginny thanked God a thousand times over that she could keep Hermione talking, could keep her…alive.

"He wrote them all down…We were a couple. We were a _happy_ couple, and we planned on raising the baby together."

"He could be making it all up to cover his own ass. What makes you believe him now when you didn't before?"

"I feel it in my gut, Gin. I felt it then too, but I ignored it because I refused to believe that he could be the father…Now I have no choice…Ron's never going to forgive me…"

"Don't think about him right now."

Hermione half laughed, half scoffed. It was just what Ron had said to her about Ginny a month ago. How many times was her world going to turn upside down before she could lead a normal life?

"I'm so sorry about this," Hermione said, looking up at her. "You were never supposed to see me like this."

"Well you're damn lucky I was able to save you,' she said, trying to sound motherly but failing miserably. How could she scold her?

"Well you better take these then," she said, reaching into her pocket. It was a bottle of sleeping pills, the seal still unbroken.

"Hermione," was all she could say. Her heart had been split in two.

"You know me," she sighed. "I'm efficient."

Ginny couldn't help but laugh at her friend's obvious attempt to lighten the mood.

"And just a little bit mental."

"Hey Gin."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." And within seconds she was fast asleep, her head resting comfortably in Ginny's lap.

"You're welcome…"

* * *

Hermione wouldn't even look at him, but sat straight-backed in the chair across the desk from Dumbledore, who she kept her eyes on, welcome to his warm smile. At least he wasn't judging her the way her parents had. And she was eternally grateful for that, and for everything he promised to do for her.

"Do we have any ideas?" he asked, looking to both students.

Hermione shook her head, forcing her frown at bay.

"I have everything taken care of," Draco said, grinning ear to ear. Hermione wanted to rip his cheeks off with her bare hands.

"Do you?" Dumbledore asked happily. "What arrangements have you made?"

"Well," he said smugly, looking only at Hermione, "my parents did all in their power to keep me from inheriting a dime when they died after I refused the Dark Mark." Hermione tried desperately to keep herself from reacting. But all she could think was: What! Draco didn't want to be a Death Eater! "But, I made alliances with certain family members who were spies for the Order of the Phoenix. They'd all received their Marks, but were working secretly against Voldemort. My parents left all their money to their closest relative after me—And she is a member of the Order."

"You mean your Aunt Melantha?"

"Yes, and she's put the money into my vault at Gringotts. When we graduate we'll have more than enough money to raise ten babies."

"And a place to live?"

"Why Malfoy Manor, of course. Melantha was given that too."

"And what makes you think I'm going to move into your stupid house and spend your money on my baby?"

"I thought your parents disowned you," he shot back acidly. "You have no other choice."

"Children, please," Dumbledore stepped in. "Draco, what about the last three months of school after the baby comes? Hermione is determined to graduate on time, as I'm sure you are too."

"Melantha agreed to watch him until we—"

"I am _not_ going to let some woman I don't even know—who's involved with Voldemort—to come within ten miles of my baby!"

"Would you stop it with your crusade against me!" Draco snapped. "I have suggested nothing but what's best for our child! Well what the hell do you think we should do if my plans are all rubbish!"

Hermione's mouth snapped shut.

"Well? I'm listening."

"How am I supposed to trust this woman?" she sighed. Who was kidding? Without her parents or Draco she would be raising this baby on the streets. She should have been grateful. Instead she was bitter and resentful.

"She is completely trustworthy," Dumbledore said, and as far as she was concerned that was good enough. "I would put my own life in her hands. She's a wonderful asset to the Order."

"But how is Draco going to get the money and the house when everyone else thinks she's a Death Eater? Won't they catch on?"

"She's willing to risk that for us," Draco said matter-of-factly.

"Well then I have just one more question."

"What?"

"How the hell are we supposed to live together?"

* * *

"Why are you doing this?" Hermione demanded, grabbing Draco almost violently by the arm, swinging him around to face her once they were in the hall. "What do you think you'll gain?"

"Your trust, for one," he shot back, and stepped closer. Their faces were inches apart. Every muscle in Hermione's body tightened. Somehow, somewhere in time, they had been together. Touching, kissing, loving. And they had both forgotten it all. She wanted to forget it all over again. She wanted to die now more than ever. Angrily she cursed Ginny in her head for vowing to watch her like a hawk. Who was she to say when she lived or died? It was her life.

_And the baby's_, she thought sadly. That was why the cuts hadn't been nearly deep enough to cause serious harm. She had wanted so badly to die, to be past the pain, but in the back of her mind she knew she was wrong, and so her hands didn't press hard enough, and the bottle of pills remained sealed and harmless. And that was also why she would not try it again. Last night had showed her just how much she loved her unborn child.

"Neither of us wanted this, Granger. But we're stuck together, so we might as well make a good life for this baby."

Her hands went up into her hair, and for a moment he thought she might rip it out. He could almost feel the scream that was struggling in the back of her throat. A scream she wanted so badly to release. Instead, however, she said, "I know. You're right," and sighed heavily. "I just…I'm going to need some time to think things over. I mean, it's _us_, Malfoy. My brain is still trying to grasp that…And the fact that you're being so…responsible."

"My parents screwed up with me. My child will not end up the same way."

"At least that's something we can both agree on."

* * *

Harry jumped off the sofa and went barreling towards the porthole door. Seamus yelped in surprise when he grabbed him by the shoulders, having come out of seemingly nowhere.

"Sorry," Harry sighed. "Thought you were someone else."

"Well I feel bad for whoever you're looking for."

But already Harry's eyes were back on the door, and so Seamus continued on his way to his room, shared with Neville, Harry, and Ron since first year. Perhaps Ron would be up for some chess today, or at least normal functioning behavior.

"Hermione!" He had her wrapped so tight and so quickly in a hug that she actually screamed. Ginny climbed in behind her, prying her boyfriend's hands off her best friend.

"Harry please," she sighed, irritated. "Come here." She brought him to sit on the couch he'd just sprung from. "Hermione has something she needs to tell you."

Hermione sat opposite the couple, smiling nervously. How could her life have come to this? She missed Ron. She wanted to run upstairs, pull him from his bed, and smother him in an unnecessary amount of kisses. He was who she loved, who she belonged with, who the father of her baby should be. Why was the world against her? Hadn't she done goof? And _this_ was her reward! She had little reason to try anymore.

"First of all," she said, avoiding looking into his emerald green eyes, "me and the baby are perfectly healthy, but…that's not the reason we went to Madame Pomfrey's."

Harry's smile dropped. He was about to find out why Ron had holed himself up in his bed for two days. And he wasn't so sure he wanted to know anymore. The mood in the room had taken a drastic turn. Would he be able to handle this?

Hermione took a deep breath, then told her complicated story, pausing regularly incase he wanted to speak. He never did, and by the time she was finished she was to tears, again.

"Harry, please, say something."

He lifted his head, his eyes blazing with anger. And when he stood she could see that his entire body was shaking.

"I am going to kill that bastard." And by the time the girls realized what he'd said, he was long gone out the porthole.

* * *

Well, that was that. I know it's sort of cheesy and predictable, the whole suicide thing, but it's something I've read in a lot of fics (and know a lot about) so I wanted to include it. Hermione needed to almost fall over the edge before she was able to agree to anything with Draco. So it makes sense, damn it:P Let me know if it was too much. There's always room for change, and I won't take anything to heart, unless people are really mean :( I know how cliché it is, but it's so true and it affects so many teenagers. I know I was surprised when I realized just how common it was. And it'll play a more important roll as the story progresses. I shall not fail you!...I hope :)

REVIEW! Or Harry will come after you next.


	7. Confrontations and Invitations

Recap:

He lifted his head, his eyes blazing with anger. And when he stood she could see that his entire body was shaking.

"I am going to kill that bastard." And by the time the girls realized what he'd said, he was long gone out the porthole.

* * *

Chapter 7: Confrontations and Invitations

"I was wondering when you'd come find me," Draco said smugly, leaning against the Slytherin House entrance. He had been about to say the password where there was a rush of hurried footsteps behind him. Only seconds saved him from receiving a black-eye.

"I'm going to make this real easy for you, Malfoy," Harry spat, his wand already held before him. He had a flashback to second year, the pure exhilaration that ran through his veins as he watched his worst enemy hurled across the room. "Leave Hermione and her baby alone, or deal with the disfiguring effects of my curses for the rest of your life."

"I'll take option 'C' and do whatever the hell I want, Potter. No one, especially not you, is going to tell _me_ if I can or cannot see my own child."

"The only reason she's having your baby is because you _raped_ her!"

"Lower your wand and stop playing the hero," he sighed. "I didn't rape anyone and it's disgusting of you to even suggest it."

"Then how else would you explain it!"

"Face it, Potter. Me and Hermione were in a relationship that you knew nothing about. The real reason you're coming after me is because you're sore about being left out."

Not even a second later Malfoy was sprawled on the floor, a good amount of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. He attempted to stand, not even thinking about drawing his wand. Harry had him on the ground once more, his foot pressed on top of his Adam's Apple, crushing his airways. Still Malfoy didn't fight back. Not that he didn't want to, not that he wasn't itching to. But, if he stayed calm and didn't lift a finger, Harry would be a hundred times more angry, and in the end it was all about getting to Harry in any way possible.

He smirked up at his Gryffindor enemy, very much aware of the fact that he could hardly breathe.

"Even Weasley knew," he laughed, using up his last supple of air. But it was worth it to see the look of utter shock and pain on his face.

"Have it your way," Harry seethed, his wand aimed at the center of his forehead. "I gave you options. You chose to mock me, and you will pay for hurting Hermione!"

His lips had only just formed around the words, when he was knocked off his feet, his back slamming against the wall behind him. He had his glare set for Malfoy, ready to stand, when his eyes fell on the most unexpected sight.

Hermione.

And Ginny was trailing behind her, out of breath.

"Hermione!" Harry cried in disbelief.

She ignored him, helping Draco to his feet. Harry was about to spring to his feet, when she brought her arm back and slapped him hard across the face.

"I hate him as much as you do, Harry," she said, her anger seeming to not be focused on anyone. Or was it everyone? She came over to him and helped him up, pushing some hair from his eyes. "But I won't have my child grow up fatherless."

"But he—"

"Come on, Harry," Ginny said, pulling his arm over her shoulder to help him back to their dormitory. He'd twisted his ankle when Hermione plowed into him. "I'll make you some hot chocolate."

"Hot chocolate isn't going to fix anything!" He felt horrible immediately after the words passed his lips. Ginny hadn't done anything wrong. "Sorry," he sighed, pressing on. They were almost around the corner, when he realized Hermione wasn't following. "'Mione?"

"Go on, Harry," she said, not turning to face him. "I need to discuss some things with Malfoy. Alone."

He was crushed the way a small child is crushed when they hear their parents arguing just before a messy divorce. But he respected her more than he was willing to give in to his urges and slug Malfoy a few more times. He murmured a good-bye, then disappeared into the shadowed hallway with his girlfriend.

Hermione waited until she could no longer hear their footsteps to speak. And when she did it was Malfoy's turn to be shocked.

"Thank you," she said, pulling her cloak closer. The halls were always so drafty at night without the warm bodies of the Hogwarts students.

"I don't remember purposely doing anything for you."

She gritted her teeth. No, of course he couldn't simply accept her apology and move on. He had to make some biting remark and make her regret it. Bastard.

"You didn't fight back when I know you wanted to," she said, forcing her hands from balling into fists. "That's why I'm thanking you."

"He's damn lucky I didn't draw my wand."

"Look, Malfoy. If this parenting thing is going to work, then we're going to have to find a middle ground. I've accepted my fate, now we have to deal with it."

"I already worked everything out," he said, stepping forward. "The money, the house, a nanny for when we're still in school. What's there left to deal with?"

"Us!" she stammered, nearly stamping her foot like a three-year-old. "We hate each other, Malfoy! How are we supposed to _live_ together? We'll curse each other into oblivion before the first week's over."

"We somehow managed to be together before," he pointed out, taking another step towards her. She didn't know where he was going with this, but she did not like the signals he was sending out. "What's to say it won't happen again?"

"I'm to say."

This time, when he stepped forward, she stepped back and right into a wall.

"Don't fight it." His voice was so soft, yet husky, and soothing to her ears after all the yelling. It was a tone he'd never known him to use, and it terrified her that she was drawn to him.

_Because he's your baby's father_, she thought, furious with herself for thinking—even for an instant—that she and Malfoy could have anything but hatred between them.

"Hermione," he purred and pressed himself firm against her, leaving her no room to escape. Gently, he took hold of her wrists, pinning her arms to the wall, his lips finding hers as if they were a destination he knew by heart. She wanted to protest, to bite his lips and draw even more blood. She wanted to knee him in the groin to prevent another unwanted pregnancy. And she wanted to break him down in every way he'd done to her for the past six years.

Instead, however, she submitted, kissing him back with such force one would think she'd initiated it. And by the time she'd regained her senses, the kiss was so passionate she had no hope of stopping it.

Until something happened. Something she could never have ignored. She shoved Draco off her, her hands hugging her just-barely-there belly.

"It moved!" she squealed, a happiness flooding through her that she never thought she'd feel again. Without thinking, she grabbed Draco's hand, pressing it to the spot where her hand had been. They stood there for a full minute before Draco frowned and stepped back.

"I don't feel anything," he said as if Hermione were the cause of it.

"Well he is _inside_ me," she laughed. This was so amazing! She couldn't wait to tell Ginny!

"He?"

"Yes, he."

"How do you know?" He didn't remember Madame Pomfrey saying anything about the sex.

"I just know," she said matter-of-factly. "I am his mother, after all."

"Well someone's attitudes have changed. A month ago this baby was a curse."

"I was scared," she said, not caring in the least that he knew this. Who wouldn't have been scared in her position? "But, now that I've gotten used to the idea, I'm excited."

"Even if it's _my_ baby?"

"I'm not going to hate my son just because you're his father. I reserve that for you, Malfoy," she said with a wide grin.

"Stop calling me that."

"What?"

"_Malfoy_. If we're going to be parents we're going to have to act like parents."

She smiled and nodded.

"I'm proud of you, Draco." Her tongue tingled a little from the unfamiliar word, but she ignored it. She was going to have to get used to it. "You really do care about our baby."

"_Our_ baby?" he laughed. "I thought it was _your_ baby."

"Shut up," she sighed, her smile not fading in the least. In fact, it grew even bigger. She was actually happy right now, save the situation with Harry, and the travesty with Ron. Draco was being nice and helpful and caring. She never thought she'd live to see the day any of the three would happen.

"What are you doing this weekend?"

The question caught her so completely off guard that she actually choked on the air.

"Homework," she managed to say, her smile replaced with a look that was a mixture of caution and shock. _His screws must have come loose_, she reasoned. "Why?"

"Come to the Manor with me," he said, everything about him telling her that he was serious.

Again she found herself asking, "Why?"

"If you're going to live there you're going to need to be shown around, more than once. It took me ten years to not get lost."

"I'm only living there until I can find a place of my own." Or if she reconciled with her parents before the summer. But, after having not heard from them in over a month, she doubted they would ever be the same again. Three days ago she'd sent them an owl—she was still waiting for a reply.

"Still," he said, coming towards her. Her body stiffened at that all too familiar tone. He was right against her again, and tucked some hair behind her ear. "Come with me. You might be there longer than you think."

"Mal—"

"No," he whispered, pressing a finger to her lips. "It's Draco."

"Draco, why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" he asked innocently, kissing her cheek. She shivered and pulled her head back.

"You've gone mental!" she yelled, jumping away from him. "We are _not_ a couple! So stop trying to kiss or touch or come within five feet of me!"

"Fine." He let out an agitated groan, crossing his arms over his chest. She always had to go and ruin his fun, didn't she? "But only if you agree to come with me this weekend."

"Alright, but if you—"

"I'll keep my hands to myself," he said slyly, rocking back on his heals. "I promise."

"Can I ask you something?"

He nodded, a smile dancing playfully on his lips. He was enjoying her discomfort far too much.

"Do you _want_ there to be something between us?"

Again he nodded, shameless to a fault.

It was official. Draco Malfoy had been kidnapped and someone was using a Polyjuice Potion to pretend to be him.

"Draco?" She came towards him and placed her hand on his forehead. "Are you ill?"

"I feel great." And he took this rather unexpected opportunity to steal another kiss. She was prepared for this, however, and as their lips touched her wand pressed into his throat. He pulled back an inch and said, "Tell me what's so wrong with us having a relationship."

"I hate you."

"Besides that."

"You hate me."

"Besides that."

"The universe would implode."

"Good one," he chuckled. "But really, why not?"

"I think you need to get to bed," she said, choosing not to answer him. "You must be sleep-deprived."

"Very well." After all, he was tired. "Meet me outside the main entrance Friday after classes."

"For what?" She lowered her wand and stepped away.

"So we can go to the Manor," he said, rolling his eyes. "You forget so soon."

"And you forget that I only agreed if you didn't make anymore moves, and you _did_. So I'm not going."

"You know," he said, leaning against the wall in the exact same place he had when Harry was there. "I've been awfully good about this whole situation. I've been calm and helpful and I even refrained from giving Potter a well-deserved beating. But you know who I haven't even seen since the paternity test?"

The color drained from Hermione's face so fast her stomach lurched and she thought she'd be sick.

"Fine! I'll go!" she huffed. "But if you come anywhere near him I'll—"

"You'll curse me. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You know you're mental, right?"

"Yup," he said with his trademark smirk.

"And that there's no chance in hell we'll ever be together?"

"Oh, we'll see about that."

* * *

The next morning Hermione woke up feeling almost as tired as she had before going to bed. She sat up and was instantly nauseous. She swung her legs out and was about to stand, when her conversation with Malfoy the night before hit her full blast. The queasiness intensified tenfold.

"Thank God it's only Tuesday," she grumbled, slipping into her robe. She still had a good hour or so before breakfast. Hopefully by then her stomach would settle and she'd be able to eat something.

After getting ready, she went down to the common room, her school bag slung over her shoulder. She figured she might as well study a bit before her first class. She had a good feeling that there was going to be a pop quiz. She got herself cozy on the couch and cracked open the book, very pleased with herself that she knew everything by heart she was reading.

"Hermione!"

She looked up and smiled warmly as Ginny descended the staircase.

"Morning, Gin."

"Well someone's cheery this morning." She plopped down next to her. She was neither dressed nor had her things ready. Definitely a Weasley.

"You would be too if you felt your baby move for the first time," she beamed with pride.

"Are you serious!" she gasped. "That's amazing!"

"Yeah. I think I'm the only one who can feel it right now, but it's so wonderful. I mean, before I felt it, it wasn't even like I was pregnant."

"I'm so happy you've finally come around. You're going to make a perfect mother."

"Well I'm going to have to be to counteract Draco's parenting."

"Oh!" Ginny jumped excitedly and bolted from the room. She returned moments later waving an envelope. "I almost forgot." She handed the envelope to Hermione and sat back down. "It came for you last night, while you were still talking to Malfoy. I fell asleep before you came back."

But she wasn't listening to a word she said. She was staring at the letter, her hear racing so fast it could burst any second.

It was from her parents.

* * *

I'm a busy bee! Yay! Two chapters at once! Don't I rule all! Hopefully, if you didn't like the last chapter, you'll like this one. I certainly do! Though I may be a little bias :P Oh, and don't worry, I'll explain Draco's crazy behavior in due time. For now you can all ponder it, because there's so much more story to go!

REVIEW! And maybe Draco will come see you ;)


	8. The Grangers

Recap:

But she wasn't listening to a word she said. She was staring at the letter, her hear racing so fast it could burst any second.

It was from her parents.

* * *

Chapter 8: The Grangers

"You open it," Hermione said, shoving the letter at Ginny. Her red-headed friend's eyes turned to saucers and she pushed the harmless envelope away.

"I don't want that kind of responsibility," she said. "Just open it and get it over with. It can't be all that much worse than what they've already said."

"Who told you about that?"

"Harry," she said cautiously.

"Speaking of which—"

"He's fine. You know how he is with Malfoy. He'll get over it soon enough."

"I'm not so sure about that." She bit her lip nervously, turning the letter over and over in her hands. "He's here to stay, Gin. He's now permanently a part of our lives…"

"You're stalling," she pointed out, and tapped her shoulder. "Go on. Open it. You won't die."

"Promise?"

Ginny only laughed, her eyes glued to the letter as Hermione began to tear it open.

"Shit," she swore, the piece of parchment falling to the floor between her legs. Ginny snatched it up, quickly reading the two sentences written. She wouldn't have been happy about it either.

"What're you going to do?"

"What else can I do?" she sighed. "Look, I'm going to go down to breakfast early and clear my head. When Harry gets up can you tell him I want to talk to him in private before class?"

"Sure thing."

"And if Ron ever leaves the dorm—"

"I'll take care of everything."

"Thanks, Gin. I really need you right now."

"I know," she said with a smile, and tossed the letter into the embers in the fireplace.

* * *

For the first time in her life, Hermione was actually happy to see Draco in the Great Hall when she stepped in. She immediately took a turn for the Slytherin table, but only because it was absolutely empty. The only other occupants of the room were a few Ravenclaw first years and a lone HufflePuff with his nose in a book. And she wondered, her eyes scanning the hall, just how long it would take for the entire school to find out about her and Malfoy. And, of course, how brutal the rumors would be.

"Hermione," Draco said as she approached, having seen her walk in. "What brings you to this side of the Great Hall?"

"Our plans have changed for the weekend."

His grin dropped instantly into a frown.

"Excuse me?"

"I received a letter from my parents this morning." She paused and he didn't even try to speak. He wanted to know exactly why his weekend was being disrupted. "They were replying to my letter," she sighed. "But they didn't comment or respond to anything I wrote."

"Out with it already."

"They said they didn't want to discuss the _situation_ through the mail, they want to talk in person."

"So you're going home then?" He was not at all happy about it. Why couldn't she wait until next weekend, when she didn't have plans? _Stupid muggle etiquette_.

"Yes. But that's not all." He gave a simple gesture of his hand to tell her to continue. "They…They said they want…to meet you."

Draco's grin returned with ruthless fervor.

"Perfect."

* * *

Harry shifted nervously from one foot to the other, his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes cast at the floor. He had been dreading this conversation since last night—the real thing was far worse than the worrying and anticipation.

"This isn't easy for any of us," Hermione was saying, leaving out the fact that Malfoy seemed utterly ecstatic about being a parent with her. "I can't even begin to imagine how this is affecting you, Harry," she sighed. "You and Draco have been arch rivals since first year and—"

"Did you just call him _Draco_?" Harry all but spat, an intense, penetrating glare in his famous green eyes.

"We're trying to be adult about this, Harry. We agreed to call each other by our first names…for the baby's sake."

"Listen to yourself, Hermione!" With the famous eyes, and the famous scar, inevitably came the famous rage. She flinched ever so slightly at his volume. "_We_ are trying! _We_ agreed! You sound like you're actually with him!" he stammered. And then, startling her even more than his anger, his eyes widened and he gasped.

"No!" she cried, and lunged forward, clinging to his shoulders. "I hate him, Harry! I _hate_ him! I don't know how any of this happened, but nothing—_nothing_—in this world could bring someone like me together with someone like him! Not for real! Not for good! Harry," she said, grabbing his face so he would look at her. "I am only doing what's best for my child. If you were about to be a parent you'd understand what I'm going through. But you aren't, so you don't. You're just going to have to trust me…I love Ron, Harry. I do…but, now that all this has happened, there's no chance for us being together ever again…I blew my one chance at love and I have to live with that for the rest of my life. But I would do anything for my baby, so I suppose I'm not completely losing out. In the end I'll always have my baby."

Harry sighed, leaning in the kiss Hermione lightly on the mouth, the way a brother would kiss his sister.

"And you'll always have me."

Hermione beamed up at him. Of course she knew he would come around, no matter what. It was the journey to get there that had frightened her.

"Just don't expect me to attend any barbeques with the family."

She laughed at his obvious joke, laced her arm through his, and they headed to class.

* * *

The last thing Hermione needed right now was _another_ rift between her and those she loved. So, as Friday evening approached, the only people other than herself, her parents, and Draco that knew about the extent of her trip home was Ginny. There was no getting around that, for the simple reason that she'd read the letter. All anyone else knew was that she was going home—and Harry knew that she was going to patch things up with her folks. Ron knew this as well, but only because both Harry and Ginny had been talking to him, whether he responded or not.

Hermione had yet to see him since she learned the news.

She exited the Great Hall almost cautiously, her eyes scanning the corridors for any sign of a lightening blond Slytherin. Just her luck, her nerves worn almost into non-existence, he was the last person to walk through the doors, a single black bag slung over his shoulder.

"Ready?" he asked casually.

She rolled her eyes and headed in the direction of Dumbledore's office. She had decided a few days before that it would be easier for them to simply use his fireplace and take the Floo Network to her house. Draco had reluctantly agreed, which had made her chuckle because the only reason she could think that he didn't want to go was because he would get his robes dirty.

Ten minutes later they were tumbling into her family's living room, choking on the huge cloud of dust. They didn't use the fireplace very often, therefore they didn't clean it very often.

"Hey," Hermione said nervously, giving stiff nods to each of her parents. Draco looked on with quiet inquire. Obviously there was something going on that he wasn't aware of.

Her parents only returned the nod, motioning for her and Draco to sit on the couch closest to the kitchen door. They opted to stand.

"This is the boy you wrote about?" her father asked, eyeing him as if he were a strange and dangerous creature that must be either caged or killed. At this point, Hermione didn't put it past him if he did either.

"Yes."

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he said, offering his hand to her father. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Hermione's jaw had dropped. _Good_, he thought, holding back his smirk. It was just the reaction he was hoping for. Always keep her guessing, that was the plan. If it could even be called that. "How much has Hermione told you about the arrangements I've made?" he asked, then brought her mother's hand to his lips. Beside him, Hermione was almost in labor.

"Nothing," Mrs. Granger said icily, her eyes focused on her daughter. "What plans, Hermione?"

"Draco's family has a lot of money," she said first, not knowing how else to start. "A few months ago his parents died in…an accident. He inherited their fortune and their home, and he wants us to live and raise the baby there."

So far they gave no reaction. Draco was now seeing why she had so dreaded coming here. This family was as warm as a meat locker.

"And he's also taken care of the three months after the baby's born when we'll still be in school. His aunt was named his guardian and she's also living at the Manor. She said she would be glad to watch the baby for us…We'll go there on weekends...and in the evenings too sometimes…Neither of you will have to lift a finger or spend a dime." What had started out as a barely audible speech, quickly turned into a barely understandable one, her words so fast and anxious.

Draco reached over and took Hermione's hand, ignoring the subtle changes in her parents' expressions. And to his complete surprise she allowed this, giving his hand a squeeze, as if to say thank you.

"Listen, Hermione," her father said, his tone almost resembling a calm human being. He stepped forward and knelt before her, one hand on her knee. "Your mother and I are still trying to wrap our heads around all this. It's going to take some time for us to…be comfortable with the idea of being grandparents. We know we might have overreacted, but you have to understand what a shock this was, especially on top of the fact that you never told us about the accident at school."

"I know I screwed up, daddy," she sighed. "But I promise I will do anything in my power to make it up to you."

He smiled at her, then leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Her mother remained stock-still, her arms crossed rigidly over her chest.

"And you," he said, standing and addressing Draco. "I guess this is where I welcome you to the family."

"Thank you," Draco replied, the picture of gentlemanly perfection.

"Thank you," her mother said, "for providing so well for our daughter."

"Then you will allow her to live at the Manor?"

"Hasn't she told you?"

All eyes fell on Hermione, who shrunk back as if they were all plotting to torture her.

"They're moving," Hermione squeaked. "To America."

Draco's entire being seemed to become shrouded in darkness.

"I see," was all he could say.

* * *

"How could you not tell me!" Draco demanded, his already intense blue eyes flaring with anger. It just about nine o'clock, after they'd had dinner and talked some more over tea about the baby and their plans. He and Hermione were now in her room, and before he'd uttered a word, Draco had wrapped the room in a silencing charm so not to alarm her parents. "You were going to take _our_ baby to _America_?"

Hermione sat, knees to her chest, on her bed, not even able to look at him. She hadn't needed to tell him for him to find out what she'd been planning. No matter what she'd told him, she was always working other plans out in her mind, finding ways to live without him. Before any of this had happened, she'd been planning on moving over there with them just until she had enough money of her own, and a secure job with the Ministry, and then she'd move back to England to be with her friends. Now she wanted to move to America more than ever.

"How could you ever think we could live together?" Hermione asked, forcing her voice to stay calm, though the anger was quickly rising in her too. It was her live, after all. And they weren't married. She could take her baby wherever she wanted. "What alternate dimension were you planning on taking us to!" She was now off the bed, only a foot before him, her eyes reflecting his rage like a mirror.

"You should have told me!" he fired back. "That baby is half mine, and as such I have a right to know when you're planning on fleeing the country! For God's sake, Hermione, you're not the only one involved. How did you think you'd get away with it?"

"I'm so sick of Dumbledore's stupid excuses!" she cried.

Draco could only give her a blank look. What on earth—

"Four times he's brushed me off about the memory potions! He said we would have our memories back soon, but no! We have to wait and wonder what the hell happened to us five months ago that made us do something so completely stupid to screw ourselves for the rest of our lives!" Her voice had reached such a high pitch that Draco had to force himself not to cover his ears.

"Hermione—"

"Don't Hermione me!" she screamed, shoving him back. "How can you stay so damn calm about all this! Huh! Is there some spell you know! Because if there is would you mind filling me in! I am—" But, before she could finish her rant, she was taken down, falling back on the bed with Draco falling right on top of her, holding her wrists to keep her in place.

"Are you going to calm down?" he asked, his lips close enough to kiss. But she wasn't paying attention to his lips, or face, or words. The pressure he was putting on her wrists was borderline excruciating. She had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. Noticing her pain, Draco eased off and stood up, thinking his massive muscular frame had crushed her. He was in for a surprise, however, when she sat up and clutched her wrists.

"Shit," she swore, massaging her left wrist with her thumb, then moved on to the right, completely unaware of the fact that Draco was putting two and two together.

"How dare you!" he hissed, shrinking back as though she meant to harm him. "You are supposed to be protecting our child! How can you be so selfish!"

She kept her eyes on the floor, trying desperately to ignore him.

"Hermione!"

"Well excuse me for not wanting _my_ baby to be half demon!"

"So just because the baby is mine it doesn't deserve to live?" Of course he knew she didn't believe that. But he was so angry he'd probably say anything that popped into his head just to let the anger out.

She felt the all too familiar sting of tears rush to her eyes.

"If you even _think_ about killing yourself and my baby again, I will get full custody so fast you'll forget you even had a child."

"You wouldn't dare," she gasped, the tears painting lines down her face.

"Try me, mudblood. I'm a Malfoy. I don't take well to being cornered."

"Let's get one thing straight, Malfoy," she hissed, her maternal instincts kicking into overdrive. She wiped furiously at her eyes, but the tears were intent on falling, and so she ignored them.

"And what would that be?" There was no backing down for either of them at this point.

"I am willing to fight to the death for my baby," she said through her teeth. "I did a stupid, irrational thing the day after I found out you were the father. But don't you think for one second that you can take my child from me. Nothing in this world can make me harm my baby."

There was silence for a full minute. And then, adding to the already bizarre and stressful events of the day, Draco sat at her side and pulled her into a hug.

"What just happened?" she asked, eyeing him with quiet suspicion.

"Don't you dare scare me like that again," Draco said, though it sounded more like a command to her.

"You really do want this baby, don't you?"

"He's all I have…"

* * *

Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Well, would you look at that? I just jumbled everything all up, didn't I? Heehee! But that's what I'm good for, huh? Crazy kids and their craziness :P

REVIEW! And I shall grant you another amazing chapter :)


	9. More Than Meets The Eye

Recap:

"Don't you dare scare me like that again," Draco said, though it sounded more like a command to her.

"You really do want this baby, don't you?"

"He's all I have…"

* * *

Chapter 9: More Than Meets The Eye

The following morning Hermione awoke to warm rays of autumn sun pouring in through her window. No matter the circumstances, it was always great to be home. She quickly pulled on her robe and shuffled out the door and down the hall to the guest room. Without making even a hint of a sound—because she of course knew this house like the back of her hand—she opened the door and slipped in.

She had to cover her mouth with both hands to keep from bursting out in laughter. Because there before her laid Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, his arms and legs sprawled out as if he'd been flattened by a piano. His perfect kissable lips were slightly parted, but he made no sound, as if she'd actually believed he would. Draco Malfoy would never—ever—snore!

"Hermione," he murmured, rolling over as if he meant to face her.

"Yes Draco?" she whispered huskily into his ear, fighting a massive case of the giggles. He was dreaming about her! And though he'd openly admitted it before, it was a far different experience to witness first hand.

"Mmm," he hummed, while simultaneously opening his eyes. Immediately he shot up, so startled he was actually unable to glare. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough," she laughed, and straightened herself up, rubbing the small of her back. All the extra weight she was putting on was beginning to affect her.

"Stupid witch," he grumbled under his breath as he slid out of bed, his neck stiff due to the "cheapness" of the pillow he was provided. He wondered what the chances were that she'd give him a massage. _And maybe a little more_, he thought with a wry smile. "Have a staring problem?"

Hermione's eyes snapped up to meet with his. She _had_ been staring at him and hadn't even realized. But who could blame her! With a body like that and wearing only silky green boxers—what girl wouldn't stare?

"Now don't be bitter just because I heard you call my name in your sleep," she said quickly, recovering expertly from her embarrassment.

"And why would I be bitter about that?" He asked with his standard smirk, taking a step towards her. Why did she always find herself in this situation with him? "You already know what I want from you, Hermione."

"And what is that, _Draco_?" She played dumb, not at all ready to throw in the towel.

Before she could react, he had her pressed against the door, crushing his lips on hers. She tried to yell at him to stop, but all that came out was a suppressed moan. One of his hands crawled up into her bed-messed hair, while the other slipped under her tank top to rest flat against her bump of a belly.

"Draco," she whispered, pulling him closer.

"Yes?" he whispered back, his mind in a haze.

"If you don't back off in three seconds I'm going to make sure you can never have another child."

He jumped back before he could realize she was bluffing, and was left to watch her back as she walked away in triumph, laughing quietly to herself.

* * *

"He seems like the perfect gentleman to me," Mrs. Granger said, setting a steaming cup of tea in front of Hermione, who groaned inaudibly and rolled her eyes.

"He comes from money and power, mum. He can be anyone if that means he gets what he wants."

"And what does he want? Other than to provide for you and your child?"

"Me…" she mumbled into her cup, taking a small scalding sip.

"I don't see how that's a bad thing." She placed a tray of chocolate biscuits on the table and took a seat, nursing her own mug. "You must have thought he had some good qualities for you to be in the situation you're in now."

"Well unfortunately I have no clue what those _qualities_ are seeing as I can't remember giving Draco so much as a smile."

"So you're just going to allow some harmless teasing to keep you from falling in love?"

Hermione's eyes widened. Not only had she referred to Malfoy's years and years of cruelty as _harmless_, but she'd actually had the audacity to suggest she could _love_ him!

"What does it matter to you?" Hermione hissed, her chair crashing back behind her before she knew she was standing. "I've screwed up any chance I had at a full and happy life! I'm eighteen and pregnant! And the father is my worst enemy! Tell me where you see love mother! I'm willing to listen!" (A/N: I know she said before that she's seventeen, in chapter 5, but as I was writing this I realized she would be eighteen, seeing as she turned twelve upon entering her first year at Hogwarts. Sorry for the stupidity:P)

"Give him a chance, Hermione!" Were those tears she saw in her eyes? "I can't bear the thought of you never finding happiness!" And all at once she was being smothered in her mother's arms, her cheeks wet. Was she crying too?

"Does this mean we're going to be ok?" Hermione asked softly, her voice trembling.

"All I ever wanted was to be a mother. A good mother…I don't think I could have succeeded more when I had you."

* * *

"So, what happened with you and your mother this morning?" Draco asked, hefting her bag onto the floor outside the Fat Lady's portrait. He'd insisted, much to Hermione's protests, that he carry her bag what with the "state" she was in.

"She wants me to give you a chance," she said honestly, much to his surprise.

"Really?" He leaned against the railing, smugness painted like clown make-up on his face.

"She also wants me to become a dentist like her and dad," she laughed. "It's sort of cute that she thinks those things could happen."

Draco's bubble was proverbially popped.

"Good luck with Weasley," he spat harshly, and turned and stomped down the stairs and out of sight. Her stomach was in an instant knot, and she had to calm her breathing before she was able to say the password and step through the porthole.

And, of course, as her luck would have it, who should be sitting in the common room but Ron himself? Not only that, but he was smiling and laughing as he played a game of Wizard's Chess with Harry, who looked quite a bit less enthused, though that was only because he was losing, and badly.

She managed to tiptoe halfway across the room before Harry caught sight of her and flagged her down. Ron's smile promptly fell from his face and he hunched his shoulders, as if for protection. With her bag now dragging behind her, she cautiously approached the corner they were sitting in, only looking at Harry. Did she look as guilty as she felt? One glance in Ron's direction would give her all the answers—for now she was content with questions.

"How was your parents'" Harry asked casually. She wanted to jab one of those little moving chessmen into his eye calling her over. Couldn't he see how agonizing this was for them both!

"Bearable," she answered frankly. "Mum cried."

"Really? What for?"

Hermione shrugged and glanced back at the staircases. What she needed right now was a good long nap, anything to free her from this.

Harry noticed her want to flee, but decided to press the subject. After all, Ron had to come around sooner or later, and Harry wanted sooner.

"Are they going to stay in England for a while then?"

She shook her head, biting her lip. She hadn't told Harry about the arrangements Draco had made. She hadn't told anyone save her parents.

"Where are you and the baby going to live?" He was genuinely concerned. How could they just pick up and leave in a situation like this!

Her response came in the form of a muffled whisper.

"Come again?"

"Malfoy Manor!" she snapped, her arms flying up in a wild gesture.

"What!" Harry and Ron cried in unison, both to their feet.

"When did this happen?" Harry demanded.

"When Draco and I went to see Dumbledore…Apparently he has this aunt that works for the Order and Dumbledore trusts her completely…I didn't want to say anything unless it was final."

"Is it?" came Ron's hurt and angry voice. She definitely couldn't look at him now.

"Yes…"

"Why!"

"Because if I run off to America with the baby Draco will come after us and win custody! I'd rather live my life in hell with him than have my child taken from me!" Harry was now beginning to see the error he'd made in trying to bring them together so soon. Ron was still bitter about "losing" his child and his happily-ever-after life with Hermione, and she was ravenous in her love for her yet to be born son.

"So you're going to live with Malfoy!"

"Yes Ron!" Finally their eyes met, and anyone in the room could see that any chance at a quiet night in was ruined. Not that anyone was thinking that, however. The whispers could be heard all over the common room.

_"Hermione's pregnant?"_

_"She's going to live with Malfoy!"_

_"Does that mean he's the father!"_

"So we're over then?"

"I thought you made that perfectly clear the day we found out who the father was," she said crossly. "Seeing as I'm not even worth your words, how am I worth a relationship with you?"

"I was angry!" he stammered.

"Did it ever occur to you that that was the worst possible thing you could have done at that moment?"

"Hermione! You're having _Malfoy's_ baby for God's sake! How could I be anything but angry!"

"You think you were the only one crushed? How do you think I felt? Not only did I have to find out I was pregnant, but that I was pregnant with my worst enemy's child! That's not something I can erase, Ron! My baby is going to be around forever, and Draco is going to be right there along with him. Tell me how a relationship can work?"

"I love you, Hermione," he whimpered, coming forward. She scrambled back as if he were coming at her with a torch.

"It's too late, Ron."

"Why!"

"Because I needed you the most and you turned your back on me! I won't risk having my heart broken again!"

"Your heart! What about mine!"

"Shut up!"

They stared at each other a moment, then turned to see Lavender Brown stomping down the stairs. She had been the one who yelled, and she was advancing on them like an angry mama bear.

"I can't stand this anymore!" All anyone could do was stare at her rage. What was she so angry about? "I could stay quiet when I found out Hermione was pregnant, because I thought it was Ron's baby. I never even knew Draco Malfoy was involved, but I can't keep this to myself any longer."

"How did you know I was pregnant?" Hermione sputtered.

"I have ears," she shot back. "Ron," she said, turning to him. "I think I can help explain some things."

"Like what?" He didn't mean to snap at her, but he was still so mad and would have snapped at anyone.

"The reason I thought the baby was yours is because you and Hermione were dating at the end of sixth year."

Simultaneously everyone's jaws dropped. How did _she_ know when no one else did!

"You were only together a week or so, when I…when I told you I fancied you. But I had no idea you were with her! No one did!" she yelled as if someone were doubting her, when really they couldn't have been listening more intently. She was their only gateway into the past, like it or not. "You told me you were with Hermione, so I backed off…"

"How does that explain anything?" Hermione asked venomously. How dare she waltz in here and interrupt their argument! And not only that, but she'd tried to hone in on her boyfriend!

"Because the next night he stopped me in the hall and told me he'd fancied me as well!" She rounded on Hermione, her finger jabbing into her shoulder. "But that he couldn't be with me because he was with you!...So I started to walk away, when he grabbed me and kissed me. He said he didn't want to…he didn't want to miss out on having me—"

"Are you trying to say that you and Ron snuck around behind my back while we were together!" Hermione was about ready to pounce on her.

"Well I'm not proud of it!"

"You're lying!"

"Ask him yourself," she said almost smugly. "He told me he's liked me since third year."

Ron was suddenly as quiet as he'd been all week.

"Ron?" Harry said, catching his eyes. "Is what Lavender said true? Did you like her?"

"Just because I liked her doesn't mean I did what she said I did!" he protested.

"Then how the hell else do you explain how Hermione and Draco wound up together!" Lavender pointed out. "She found out about us and you two broke up. A week later he dumped me too, because he couldn't stand what he'd done. I didn't see him all summer, and when you two were all cozy last month I figured you'd finally made up."

"Even if that is true," Hermione said icily, ignoring Lavender's hot glare, "it still doesn't explain how Draco fits into this."

"After we broke up he tried to get you back. I was angry and jealous," she admitted, her ears glowing red. This was not at all easy for her. "I followed him a few times when I knew he was going after you. You would never listen to him, and one night he got really desperate…He pushed you against a wall and demanded you hear him out. I was about to step in, when Draco came out of nowhere and knocked Ron to the ground. I guess he thought he was hurting you, because he threatened him with his wand. Ron tried to explain himself, but you grabbed your wand too, so he walked away…I don't know what happened next because I followed Ron back to the dormitory."

The entire room was shrouded in complete silence. There was no way she would have made all that up for no reason. Even if she did like Ron, she wouldn't go this far—she wasn't a Slytherin. And so there was only one other option, and that was that she was telling the truth.

Hermione held her belly and stepped back.

"This is all your fault!" she screamed at Ron. "You cheated on me and broke my heart and I was so distraught I slept with Malfoy!" She didn't believe her own words, there had to be more to it than that, but right now it was about putting Ron in his place. "How could you do this to me!"

"She's lying Hermione!" he cried, running after her. She had her wand out so fast he nearly ran into it. "Please! Don't do this! I love you!"

"Well I don't love you," she said with hardened finality, then turned and made for her room.

Ron attempted to go after her, only to end up falling down the stairs-turned-slide. He curled his knees into his chest and cried right there in front of everyone. Harry reluctantly came to his side. Who were these people? Where were the Ron and Hermione he once knew?

"Come on mate," he said, pulling him to his feet. "I think we better get to bed."

Ron only managed a weak nod, allowing himself to be dragged up the opposite staircase, all the while wondering how he could have thrown away his one shot at true love.

* * *

**Important Notice! Please read!**

**Before I go any further in this story, I need to pose a question to you, my readers. I am currently debating over two options, so I figured I'd let you be the deciding factor. What I want to know is should I a.) reveal the past in this story through dreams, flashbacks, and when and if they get their memories back, or b.) do a prequel to this story. I was leaning towards prequel, mostly because I hate to have the story before this one be squished and because I don't want to let go so soon! Heehee! Let me know and I'll do whatever the majority wants.**

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I really hope everyone liked this one. The Ron/Hermione/Lavender confrontation has been in the making since the beginning, only I didn't know quite where to put it. I needed Ron to stay out of the picture for a while and stew over his broken heart. I figured Hermione's revelation about living with Draco would be just the springboard I needed, and voila! It worked like a charm :P Heehee! I bet no one saw that coming! Weee!

REVIEW! And you shall find out what happens next :)


	10. Time Will Tell

Recap:

"Come on mate," he said, pulling him to his feet. "I think we better get to bed."

Ron only managed a weak nod, allowing himself to be dragged up the opposite staircase, all the while wondering how he could have thrown away his one shot at true love.

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Chapter 10: Time Will Tell

After all that had happened, Hermione didn't care one ounce that she was marching towards Slytherin House, intent on entering no matter who came to answer the door. Viciously she wished it was Pansy Parkinson, giving her an ample excuse to clock her good in the jaw. Anyone she would simply threaten, knowing full well that they knew she would and could follow through. She was far too angry and determined to not gain access. Plus, Draco would eventually come down to see what the fuss was about and let her in. If not there would definitely be more than hell to pay.

She knocked vehemently on the stonewall that was the Slytherin entrance, very aware of the fact that over the course of the day everyone in the school had not only found out she was pregnant but who with and what their plans for the future were. If she'd had enough energy she would personally interrogate each and every Gryffindor until the culprit or culprits were known. And then she would make them regret ever entering the castle.

"Granger!" Goyle spat, sticking his big ugly nose in her face. Without delay she pushed him back and slid into the common room without so much as a word, her wand out and ready for anything. "What the hell do—" It took no thought whatsoever for her to silence him with a simple charm, her aimed wand threatening more if he moved towards her.

"Where's Draco?" she demanded of the crowded room of Slytherins.

"Right here," came his agitated voice as he presented himself at the top of the staircase. "What gives? I'm the only one allowed to give Goyle what's coming to him." His secret smile told her she'd been right before—he would have let her in had there been a problem.

Quickly she made her way up to him, her anger somehow dissipating when she saw the look in his eyes. He must have thought there was something wrong with the baby, or else he wouldn't be looking at her like that.

"The baby's fine," she assured him, then motioned towards the bedrooms, indicating she wanted to speak with him in private.

"What's so important that you would actually set foot on enemy soil?" he asked cockily, his fears having been squelched. He was at his home base; he had the upper hand.

"Where is that notebook you've been writing the dreams in?" she asked, getting straight to the point. She didn't want to be here any longer than she had to be. He always seemed to get the better of her when they were alone.

"Why?" He would make her beg before he gave her something willingly.

"Because I want to check something."

"I thought they were a load of rubbish, something my mind concocted because I _feared_ being a father."

"Last night I learned something new about our quandary," she caved with a sigh, and took a seat on the nearest bed, his bed. He noticed this with grinning pleasure and followed suit, though kept his distance. For now. "It seems Ron and I had been dating at the end of sixth year." Draco's smile dropped slightly. Where was she going with this? Had the weasel come out of seclusion last night and begged forgiveness that she'd in turn given? Were his chances with her blown? "It also seems that he and Lavender Brown snuck around behind my back." At this Draco's eyes brightened and he scooted closer to her. "I apparently found out and left him. He then dumped her because he realized he'd made a mistake," she said with a triumphant smile. "He tried to get me back but I refused to talk to him. One night he cornered me and demanded I hear what he had to say. You—"

"I was wondering when I would come in."

She glared at him, and continued.

"You were in the corridors as well and happened upon us. I guess you thought he was hurting me, so you stepped in and 'saved' me."

"Your knight in shining armor," he pointed out with a gruff laugh. "How valiant of me." He found this more amusing than anything, as she'd figured he would.

_Bloody ferret._

"What do you need the journals for then? You have your answers right there. I rescued you and you fell for me. End of story."

"I have a hard time believing that you _selflessly_ rescued me, Draco. I want the notebooks to reread the parts where Ron is mentioned. It might shed some more light on the situation."

"On one condition."

She groaned and rolled her eyes. But she'd been prepared for this and asked what.

"Stay with me tonight."

"Here!" she baulked, jumping to her feet. "Are you mad!"

"From time to time," he said with a shrug. "But I'm serious, Hermione. Stay with me tonight and you can keep the stupid journals. I'll even continue to write the dreams down and give you updates."

"Why?" was all that came out of her mouth when she opened it.

"Because ever since we woke up in the infirmary I haven't even _thought_ of another girl. You know I want you all for myself, but right now I'll be content with a sleep over. All I ask is you sleep in my bed and let me hold you. If you ever feel I've crossed the line you're entitled to storm out."

"No," she said firmly. "It's not worth it."

He climbed off the bed and was in front of her before she could move. She wanted so badly to just turn around and leave, but she wanted to notebooks more. If she was doomed to live this life then she wanted to know _why_. But all that she could think of right now is how badly she could get back at Ron if she were to end up with Draco. The ultimate payback.

"I could make it worth it," he said silkily, brushing the back of his hand over her hard belly.

"Those lines might work on your whores," she said with a sneer. "But they won't on me."

"The more you resist me the more I want you," he purred. "Give me this one simple thing and you can have the silly journals."

"No." She was just as adamant as ever. "I won't hurt Harry just because I'm sore with Ron." And that was the deciding factor. However she was to get back at Ron it would have to not affect Harry. She loved him far too much to do such a thing. He didn't deserve to be miserable just because she was. "There has to be something else you want." It sent a dull pain through her temple to say it, but she needed those notebooks.

"How will this hurt scarface? I mean, you're already going to live at the Manor. What's one little night over here?"

"That's different," she tried to convince herself. "I'm only living there because it's what's best for the baby, and Harry knows that. This has no benefit for the baby, therefore I won't do it. You're just going to have to think of something else."

"Very well," he sighed. "But it's going to be tenfold of this."

She gestured irritably for him to continue. And he was all too willing to oblige.

"First of all, this weekend we're going to the Manor." She nodded, knowing it was inevitable. "Second, we're going there for part of the Christmas break."

"But—"

"I said _part_. And I'm not finished. Third, I want to be involved in the baby naming process. And lastly," he said, grinning ear to ear, "I want a kiss."

"Fine," she huffed. "But he is not going to be named Draco Jr." He smiled and opened his arms. She leaned in to peck him on the cheek, recoiling immediately.

"No, no, no," he laughed, tugging her to him. "Not that kind of kiss. A real kiss. And I have to feel like you mean it."

"Answer me something first."

"Anything."

"Why do you want me? And I want the truth."

"Because you're my soul mate," he said simply and honestly. "Now stop stalling and kiss me."

* * *

_"How are we supposed to raise this baby if no one can know about us!" Hermione screamed, throwing the nearest object to her at Draco's head. Unfortunately for her, and very fortunate for him, she missed by a half inch, and the alarm clock clattered to the floor behind her. "I'm going to have to tell Harry and Ron and Ginny about this, not to mention my parents! I'm not going to lie when they ask who the father is!"_

_"I didn't say _never_," he protested, looking around the room as if her parents would come bursting in at any moment. But Hermione had sealed it with a silencing spell, and they were fast asleep. "Only until we're out of school!"_

_"I'm going to have the baby before graduation, Draco! You're just going to have to deal with losing your cronies for the sake of the baby! I might very well lose my friends, but I would do anything for this baby! Can you say the same?"_

_He frowned and attempted to approach her. She grabbed the bedside lamp, jerking it from the wall, and brought it back. He stopped dead in his tracks and she lowered the offensive near-weapon._

_"I never asked for this, Draco," she sighed and practically fell back onto the bed. "But now that it's happened all I want is for him or her to grow up happy and with both parents. I won't let you ruin their life because you're a stubborn, righteous Slytherin!"_

_"Well then I guess I can't be who you want me to be," he said with crushing finality, his brow stitched tight. "I can't be the father to your baby, Hermione. It's just not going to work. We were stupid, hormonal teenagers. I won't let something like that ruin—"_

_"Your life!" she spat and snatched up the lamp, hurling it at him before he could duck. It landed square in his gut and he toppled over, sputtering out his words in a gasp._

_"No—" he tried to say, but she stopped his lips tight with the same silencing spell she'd used on the room, then disarmed him quicker than he could reach for his wand._

_"If you don't apparate out of here right now I'll do much more than plug up that vicious mouth of yours!"_

_Even if he could talk, he wouldn't have said a word. She was right to kick him out. He'd be lucky if he ever saw his baby now._

_With one last glance at her fiery chocolate eyes he apparated out of sight, praying that there was some way he could fix all of this._

* * *

Ron mulled about Gryffindor House, as depressed and confused as ever. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what could have possessed him to cheat on Hermione. He loved her! How could he be so stupid as to throw it away for someone like Lavender Brown? Not that there was anything wrong with her, but she wasn't Hermione. If Hermione weren't a factor then he'd be glad to have Lavender, but as things stood he wanted his brown-eyed bookworm more than ever.

Perhaps she had put a spell on him that gradually set in so not to look suspicious. And then when it was in full force he kissed her.

"No," he grumbled to himself, glaring daggers at the fireplace as if it were the cause of his troubles. Lavender wasn't the type of girl to do something so evil and conniving. It had been his stupidity that brought him to this point; he had only himself to blame, no matter how much he wanted to blame someone else.

What made the situation worse was that ever since that night Lavender gave them a peek into the past Hermione had spent less and less time in the tower. He knew she was with Draco some of the time; there was no denying that fact. And when she was there she would pull Harry and Ginny away from him, remaining cool and collected whenever she was around him. He knew she was scheming to get back at him, but what she didn't know was that the ultimate punishment was not having her in his arms.

And the proverbial thorn in his side was that Lavender had been trying like mad to speak with him for the past few weeks. He would always brush her off, however, afraid that Hermione would see them together and guess the worst. Whatever Lavender had to say, it wasn't important enough to him to jeopardize himself further.

In time, of course, he knew Hermione would speak to him, be his friend again even. And while he wanted that, he wanted nothing more than her. She was his one true love and he'd thrown that away for a silly crush on a girl he hardly knew! He almost wanted to curse her simply for existing. But, pulling at his heartstrings, he was constantly reminded of the truth:

_He'd lost the love of his life and the only person at fault was himself._

* * *

Ginny giggled uncontrollably as she swept her hand over Hermione's growing belly. She was now five months pregnant and looking very much so. Her abdomen had grown nice and round, while she'd managed to keep from gaining weight anywhere else.

"So," Ginny said, sitting back. "Have you thought of any names?"

Hermione glowered at this, rapping her fingers on her belly.

"Everything I come up with Draco hates, and everything he comes up with I hate. At this rate our son will be known as 'the baby' until he's twenty."

"What has he suggested?" she asked, still laughing under her breath. She could only imagine. "Draco Jr.?"

"That was never on the table for discussion. I told him that right off the bat. He wants to name him after someone in his family, but the names are so bizarre. I just want a nice normal name."

"How are things going for you two anyway? You never talk about him."

"It's manageable," she sighed. "When we went to the Manor a few weeks ago he didn't even try to make any moves, and we were completely alone. He showed me around, several times, and then we went shopping for baby stuff in Hogsmeade. I have yet to meet this aunt of his that's supposed to watch the baby when he's born."

"Does this aunt have a name?" Not once had Hermione mentioned it.

"Yeah. Melantha. Apparently—"

"Melantha Blake?"

"Err, yeah, I think. How many Melanthas can there be?"

"I know her!" Ginny cried out, startling Hermione into a near-fit. "She's hardly at the Order's hideout because she's always off on business. But whenever she's there she's so much fun! She takes me to all the places mum never lets me go, and because Dumbledore trusts her so much mum lets me go with her. I can't believe she's Draco's aunt!"

"How come I've never met her?" Hermione pouted. "And why didn't you ever mention her before?"

"Well I didn't think it was important. I was there a lot more than you. She was just never there were you were. But believe me, you'll love her. She'll make what happened with Draco seem like a blessing."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. Certainly this woman couldn't be all that great. After all, she had never heard of her before now. Not Ginny or Ron or Harry had ever said a word about her, for they must know her seeing as Ron was Ginny's sister and Harry her girlfriend, ever at her side.

"When do you get to meet her?"

"Why? Do you want to come along?"

"Don't be bitter with me Miss Granger," Ginny snapped, then smiled and took her hands. "Trust me when I say she is the best person to watch your baby. From what I've heard she's on Dumbledore's top ten list of witches and wizards in the Order. He'd trust her with his life."

Hermione looked at her friend at her last words. That had been exactly what Dumbledore himself had said not too long ago. Perhaps she was judging this relative of Draco's too quickly.

"I hope you're right, Gin, 'cause we're going again this weekend."

She gave her sullen friend a toothy grin, hugging her tightly.

"So, can I really come along? Or were you just being cynical with me?"

"I was being cynical," Hermione laughed. "But yeah, you can come. Bring Harry too."

"Harry?" she baulked. "Draco would never—"

"Oh yes he will," she said confidently. "If he wants me to come he will. Plus, he's been on this 'proving himself to me' mission. I doubt he'll give it a second thought."

"He really wants to be with you, huh?"

"As much as I _don't_ want to be with him…"

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**Another Notice:**

**I'm having a rather difficult time picking a name for Hermione and Draco's son. I've looked on the internet to find a good name with a strong meaning that they could both agree on, but I can't find a thing. If anyone has any suggests then please feel free to let me know:) And be sure to give the meaning as well, because that's very important. And if I receive a lot of good suggests, then I'll post them at the end of another chapter and have you all vote on them.**

**As for my other notice, I think I'm going to go with the prequel idea. 1.) Because that's what I was leaning towards, and 2.) because that's what a majority of you wanted as well. Thank you for your input! It was much appreciated :D**

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I know that wasn't a big happenings chapters, but not every chapter can be on-the-edge-of-your-seat exciting, heehee. I think it was rather important in setting up for the next chapter, which will be the trip to Malfoy Manor. I didn't put in the first trip because there wasn't much to put. Draco behaved himself, which is no fun, and his aunt wasn't there. Hopefully in a few days I'll have the next chapter out and you'll get to see the great Melantha:)

REVIEW! If you love me :D


	11. Melantha

Recap:

"He really wants to be with you, huh?"

"As much as I _don't_ want to be with him…"

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Chapter 11: Melantha 

Harry stared at his girlfriend and his best friend—who stood side by side—as if they'd sprouted extra limbs from their heads. They were smiling innocently at him, with just a touch of a pout. And they were asking the impossible. For him to spend the weekend at Malfoy Manor.

Ginny fluttered her long black lashes and came to sit on his lap, hugging him tight around the neck.

"Please baby," she pleaded, kissing his cheeks and nose and lips. "We're not even going to be around him a whole lot. And you get to see Melantha."

"Melantha!" he stammered. "But how—"

"Well apparently she's Draco's aunt."

"No!" he gasped, and would have jumped to his feet had it not been for Ginny on his lap. "You can't be serious. She's related to _Malfoy_?"

"Afraid so," Hermione cut in.

"Have you met her yet?"

"Not yet. That's another reason I want you and Gin there. Incase it doesn't go well."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that," Harry laughed. "There's no way it won't."

* * *

As Hermione predicted, Draco had agreed to allow both Ginny and Harry to come along. He must have hid his agitation well, because she didn't see him falter in the least. He was calm and cool as if he and Harry had been best mates since first year. Well, almost. 

"How's saving the world going?" Draco asked, sitting awfully close to Hermione in the carriage on the way to the Manor. Harry did all in his power to keep from lunging at him. He didn't deserve to be that close to her. To anyone.

"Splendid," Harry replied fast as quicksilver. "How's impending fatherhood?"

"Same." He pursed his lips into a sneering smile that only Harry seemed to notice. Hermione and Ginny were deep in conversation, leaned towards each other and ignoring the boys of the carriage. "Hermione's simply glowing with child, don't you think?" he asked, placing a bold hand on the small of her back. She didn't notice, or, if she did, she didn't care.

"I think that once we get to the bottom of this you won't have anything left to smirk about."

And then the carriage came to a halt.

"We're here already?" Hermione asked, sitting rigid, her eyes darting back and forth. Draco's arm lashed out, as if on reflex, and grabbed her hand. Their eyes met and locked, and it was like they were the only two in the cabin. He moved as close to her as possible, taking her other hand and pressing them to his chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced as his forehead touched hers. And then, taking one of his hands, he caressed the side of her face and whispered something only she could hear. "Alright," she whispered, smiling meekly, then turned and climbed out of the carriage.

"What did you say to her?" Harry demanded, ignoring Ginny's heated glare.

"What she needed to hear," Draco shot back, then he too slipped out the door to help unload the luggage.

"I don't trust him in the least."

"You don't have to," Ginny said, grabbing her purse. "But don't you dare make this harder on Hermione than it already is."

A few minutes later all four students walked through the massive doors of Malfoy Manor, Draco, of course, leading the way. And, same as the previous visit, the first place he went was straight up the right staircase, only this time going to the guest wing.

"Potter. Weasley," he said, opening the second door on the left. "You're here." And then he continued down the hall.

"What a gentleman," Harry scoffed. He dragged his and Ginny's suitcases into the room, hefting them onto the grand four-poster, green velvet draped bed. "Where's your room?"

"Same as before I assume," Hermione said with a shrug. "It's down the other hall we passed." She motioned absently, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end; she could almost feel the anger Harry was giving off. This was the last place on earth he wanted to be. "Draco's old room."

"Oh?" He came forward, grabbing the doorframe as if it were preventing him from doing something he'd regret. Hermione shrunk back further into the hall. "And where is his new room?"

"I don't want to be here either, Harry," she said, dodging the question. "But the last time his aunt was supposed to be here. She ended up getting called out on Order duty a few hours before we arrived. And I am not about to leave my child with someone I've never met before."

"Where is his room Hermione?" he said through his teeth.

"No need to get hostile, Potter," came Draco's silky, mocking voice as he stepped up behind Hermione. "And to answer your question, I'll be right next door to her, just incase she needs anything during the night."

Before anyone knew what was happening, Harry had Draco pinned to the wall, his arm shoved against his throat. His fingers were inches from his wand, when he felt Hermione's pressed hard into his cheek.

"Don't be stupid, Harry," she said, her heart breaking at the thought of having to defend Draco a second time. Why did Harry insist on doing this to her? "He's only trying to rile you up. Don't let him." She lowered her wand, pulling him back and into a shaky embrace. He practically fell into her arms, holding her as if she were his life force. "Unpack your things. I want to have a word with him."

Once she and Draco were behind closed doors, and in his room to be more precise, she went off on him like a firecracker.

"Please tell me now if you're planning on being this immature the entire weekend! Because I'm about ready to Floo the hell out of here!"

"Well you can't expect me and Potter to be in the same place and remain civil. You asked for it, Hermione," he sneered. "I don't see why _they_ have to be here, but, because you wanted it, I allowed it."

"Don't you think I'm going to need more than you for support?"

"Support for what!"

"I'm terrified out of my mind right now and all anyone can pay attention to is your and Harry's childish squabbling! This woman is going to be the primary caregiver of _my _baby for the first three months of his life! If there's even the tiniest thing off about her I'm not going to be able to sleep until I graduate!"

Draco opened his mouth to retort, only to waver and sigh. She was absolutely right and he hadn't given it a second thought. She didn't know Melantha the way he did, the way her friends did. And though he didn't get along with his aunt particularly well, he knew she was the perfect choice.

"Why can't you trust me?" he asked, his voice low and serious, giving her pause. "If there was any doubt in my mind then I wouldn't have suggested her. I'm not evil, Hermione!" he yelled, his fists clenched at his sides. "I care about our child, and, like it or not, I care about you! So stop acting like I'm the bad guy!"

"What's all that yelling about in there!"

Hermione froze and stared with deer-caught-in-headlights eyes at the door. It wasn't Ginny and it definitely wasn't Harry. Which only left one person. Melantha Blake.

"Don't you start with me too!" Draco snapped back, then went to answer the door. And Hermione had to forcibly keep from hyperventilating. This was it, and she was _completely_ unprepared.

"You must be the Hermione I've heard so much about," the very tall woman in the doorway said. And, despite the way she was dressed and the cuts and bruises on her face, she was one of the most gorgeous women she had ever seen. Her long straight reddish blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail, with an army green bandana holding any loose strands out of her creamy blue-green eyes. Her outfit, which matched her bandana, consisted of a torn brown tank top, baggy green pants, dirty black boots, and an unzipped green sweatshirt. She was smiling warmly at Hermione, her perfectly straight teeth pearly white, as if there weren't a large purple bruise on her right cheekbone or a rather nasty gash on her bottom lip. She looked as though she'd just come from a fight. "Don't mind the appearance, doll," she said, catching her wandering eyes. "I got a little banged up on my last assignment."

"And the hideous ensemble?" Draco laughed, reminding Hermione of just how well groomed he was, though those weren't exactly the words she'd use.

"If you must know, Draco," she said, her sugar sweet voice turning instantly icy as she addressed her nephew. "I just got back from dueling with Remus."

"Remus Lupin?" Hermione asked, taking her first steps towards her.

"He sends his love," Melantha said. "And he wishes for you to have a safe delivery and a healthy baby. He's very much concerned for you, Hermione."

"He's not the only one," came Harry's voice from behind her in the hall. She spun on her heals and gasped like a schoolgirl.

"Harry! Ginny!" She wrapped them up into her arms, kissing them each on the cheek before reluctantly releasing them. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Your nephew was _kind_ enough to 'invite' us," he said, rolling his eyes. "And when I heard you were going to be here I couldn't say no."

"I find it hard to believe that my nephew would invite Harry Potter into his home," she laughed.

"Ok, so we invited ourselves so we could see you," Ginny said.

"Well I'm glad you did. I haven't seen you since just after New Year's."

"Excuse me," Draco said hotly, clearing his throat dramatically. Everyone turned to face him, having almost forgotten where they were. "I think you're all missing the purpose of this visit."

Melantha and Hermione's cheeks simultaneously went crimson.

"We have a hell of a lot to discuss," he continued. "And I suggest we do that over dinner."

* * *

After dinner, which consisted of no talking and a roomful of angry witches and wizards, Draco retired to his room. No one bothered to object. They were all now seated in the right wing lower den, cozied up in front of a blazing fire. 

"It's late," Harry yawned, stretching his tired limbs. He stood from his place on the floor, pulling Ginny to her feet as well. "Good night, 'Mione," he said, leaning down to peck her on the cheek. "Night Mel."

"Good night kids," Melantha said amiably.

And then it was only the two of them.

"Aren't you going to bed?"

Hermione looked up from the fire and shook her head.

"I can never get to sleep before midnight," she sighed, patting her belly. "He's a night owl."

"Sounds like a certain Malfoy I know," Melantha laughed. Hermione chuckled uncomfortably, praying that she would go to bed soon and leave her with her thoughts. Not that she wasn't a pleasant woman, but she still didn't know her and there was something just a little off about her. Like she was keeping a secret of something. "So," she continued. "How is the baby name hunt going?"

Hermione groaned irritably.

"That bad?"

"Worse," she sighed. "He insists the baby should be named after a member of his family. I don't know anyone in his family."

"He's a traditionalist, if you haven't noticed."

"Any name I suggest is pure rubbish as far as he's concerned. At least we have four more months…May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Where does the name Blake come from? Are you married?"

The look it brought to the older woman's face told Hermione that it was not something she should have mentioned. She started to take it back, only to be silenced by a simple gesture.

"I was married," she said after a long moment. "He died a long time ago…In a duel."

"With who?" She couldn't stop herself from asking; it was as though someone else had control over her.

"With…With a…With an evil man," she finished, then stood and quickly excused herself.

"Great job, Hermione," she groaned to herself, pulling a pillow to her chest. It wouldn't be for another three hours that she finally willed herself to trek back upstairs and crawl into bed. She fell asleep the instant her head hit the pillow.

* * *

"Draco," Hermione sighed, wriggling to free her wrists from his ironclad grasp. But to no avail. "Why can't you just tell me where we're going?" 

"That would defeat the whole purpose of a surprise," he said matter-of-factly, and tugged her closer, so her back was pressed against his chest. She thanked the stars that Harry and Ginny had gone shopping with Melantha. They said they wanted to buy her baby gifts, no matter how much she refused. "Relax," he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. "You'll like it, I promise."

"Promise me something else," she whispered back. He had to fight every urge in his body not to kiss her plump pink lips as they moved so close in front of him.

"Yes?"

"Don't make any promises."

He would have retorted, when he realized they were at the destination. Telling her to stay put, and rechecking the blindfold, he rushed ahead to open the giant wooden doors, lacquered black with trimmings hand painted in gold.

"I thought we were here," Hermione grunted impatiently.

"We are," came his reply, suddenly at her side again, his muscular arm snaked around her waist as he led her through the doors. "Remember when I gave you a tour of the Manor and we passed those big double doors you kept asking about?"

Hermione actually found she grew excited, her fingers itching to tear off the blindfold. He had been so adamant about her not entering that room. At night she'd attempted to seek it out, though the first night Draco caught her, and the second she wound up getting lost and ended up in the east courtyard. It took her two hours to retrace her steps and find her room again.

She felt his hands reach up and touch the cloth that separated her eyes from what the room beheld, only to frown when they continued to rest on either side of her face. And she knew exactly what was coming next. His lips brushed against hers, igniting a rumble deep within her that almost scared her. Never before when he'd kissed her had she felt such a thing. She tried to convince herself that it was because he hadn't even tried to touch her since the night she went storming to Slytherin House, but, as the kiss deepened and she didn't pull away, there was no one left to convince. Her hands somehow found their way into his hair, silently demanding more.

"Let me show you the surprise," he breathed, reluctantly pulling away. Her eagerness had not gone unnoticed. Kissing her once more, he removed the blindfold and stepped back to gauge her reaction.

"Draco!" she cried, her hand trembling in front of her mouth. "It's amazing!"

"It's yours," he said, sweeping his arm across the room. Before her was the largest library she had ever since or could conceive of. And, knowing his wealth, she knew it held the most precious and valuable books in all the wizarding world.

"M-Mine?" she stammered, staring wide-eyed at him. "What do you mean—"

"I mean," he laughed, pulling her to him, "that I am giving you, as mistress of this house, my family library. Merlin knows I hardly use it."

"You can't be serious. There must be millions of books here!"

"Of course I'm serious."

"But…But why?"

And his answer came in the form of a kiss.

* * *

Yay! Melantha has been revealed! And she's awesome, or so I'll show you later on. We didn't get to see much of her, but trust me she's cool. But why is Hermione so apprehensive with her? Hmm. :P 

REVIEW! If you love me :)

**Note: I have decided on a name for the baby, but I'm not going to reveal it until Draco and Hermione themselves have picked the name; both first and middle, well, actually two middle names. The first name and the first middle name are both names suggested by some of my reviewers. So yay for you:D The second middle name is a choice between two names that I've been debating over. Thank you for all your help! You're such awesome reviewers!**

**The top names I received were: Marius (only reason I wouldn't pick this is because it's the name of one of Anne Rice's beautiful vampires), Marcus, Alexander, Aramis, Raegan, Dante, Daemon, Damien/Damian (I got that one a lot), Sebastian (which is a name I've pondered over to name my own child when that lovely day comes), Matthias (the meaning was awesome, though more for Draco—God's gift to women), Gabriel, Xavier, Zane, Thane, and Lucas. And yes, if you are wondering, the two names I chose are on this list. Heehee!**


	12. Buried In A Book

Recap:

"Of course I'm serious."

"But…But why?"

And his answer came in the form of a kiss.

* * *

Chapter 12: Buried In A Book 

Hermione sat up in bed that night, unable to get that powerful kiss out of her head. His lips were like candy; she simply wanted to devour them. And the more she tried to convince herself it was only the kiss, and not the giver of the kiss, that made her shiver even now, the more she found herself picturing not only his lips, but his entire face, etched with a small playful smile.

"But it's Malfoy," she snapped bitterly at herself. She roughly pulled back the blankets and stalked out of the room, snatching a piece of parchment off the nightstand as she went. Draw on it carefully, was a map, given to her by Draco, that showed her how to reach the library from her room. Because she was certainly not going to get any sleep tonight.

Ten minutes later was she breathing easy as she walked through the immense double doors. The room instantly lit up, the wall torches igniting as if she'd commanded them to. She didn't give them a second thought, however, and walked straight ahead to the nearest bookcase, not knowing in the least where to begin.

"Is this _French_?" she asked of the book she'd plucked from the shelf. Turning it over in her hands, she eyed it almost as if it were a dangerous creature. And, as she went to put it back, she realized that the entire shelf was all books in French. And the next. And a few shelves over were books in Italian. Further down she found languages including Spanish, Portuguese, Russian, Greek, Japanese, and many others she could not place. Finally, after marveling silently at the extensive collection of multi-language books, she found where the English section began and quickly chose a heavy, dusty book to settle in front of the fireplace with.

She cracked the crumbling book open carefully and was immediately enthralled with its contents. So absorbed was she that she didn't hear the library doors open and close, or the footfalls that followed.

"Find something you like?"

Hermione jumped so far out of her chair it appeared something had nipped her rear. When she saw who it was, she fixed a heavy glare and settled back into her seat.

"Do you enjoy sneaking around and scaring people?" she demanded hotly.

"Very much," he laughed. "What are you doing in here so late?"

"What are you doing following me?" she shot back, ignoring his question. He only smirked and lowered himself into the chair opposite her.

"I heard you get up. I was curious as to where you were going." He leaned in and tipped up the book in her hands to see the title. She was seconds from slapping his hand away when she stopped, reminding herself that she was in his home and this library had been given to her as a gift. A gift that she was still extremely uncomfortable with and wary of. "Good choice."

"Draco?" He looked up into her eyes. If it was not for her hardened exterior around him she would have melted into a puddle. What was it about those brilliant silvery eyes that caught her breath so? "What's with all the shelves of books in different languages?"

He shrugged and sat back.

"My parents knew a lot of languages, which they unfortunately insisted I should know as well."

"You mean to tell me you know _all_ those languages?"

He nodded, a sneaking smile gracing his lips.

"It comes in handy every now and again."

"Say something," she said, almost excitedly, the ancient book forgotten on the table beside her. "Something in—" She glanced behind her, saying the first language she saw. "—Portuguese."

"You're serious?" he laughed. She nodded. "Very well, but you have to come closer."

When she didn't move, he reached forward and yanked her into his lap. She entertained the idea of clawing his eyes out for a moment, only to remain silent and still in his arms, his cool gray eyes fixed calmly on her.

"Portuguese, huh?"

"For now," she replied, mirroring his usual smirk. If his hormones were an animal, they'd be a lion, and he'd be the ringmaster at a circus, barely about to keep them at bay.

"Alright then." He cleared his throat and tightened his grasped around her waist. "Se somente você souber fraco você me faz."

"What does that mean?" The shiver of rising desire that coursed through her was unmistakenable.

"I want to take you right here on this floor."

She rolled her eyes at his haughtiness, though encouraged him to go on in French.

"Je vous déteste tellement parce que vous êtes tout ce que je peux penser."

"Did you just say you hate me?" she gasped in a startlingly playful manner.

"What else?"

"Say something in…er…Spanish. I love Spanish accents."

"Very well, but I don't have an accent… Pero pienso que comienzo a caerme enamorado de usted, y no pienso que quiero pararme."

"I wish I knew another language," she pouted, her hands spreading across her belly. "I want you to teach our son other languages."

"I planned to. How else would we talk about you while you're there?"

"One more?"

"What?" he groaned. This was not what he'd planned on doing once he found her all cozy in the library.

"Italian."

"E se mai vi dicessi questo ridereste nella mia faccia. Dunque suppongo devo essere contento con proteggere lei ed il bambino," he said, holding her eyes, the foreign words rolling off his tongue as if they were his native language.

"Bambino? Bamb—That means baby, right?"

"And you thought you couldn't speak another language."

"I can speak it just fine," she said, poking him in the gut. "It's knowing what I'm saying that's the problem."

"What do you want to say? I'll tell you."

"You'll tell me?" she laughed. "And I suppose there are about a million strings attached."

"Nope," he said, bearing his hands as if they proved he was telling the truth. "No strings."

"Alright," she sighed. "I want to say: I am better at magic, in every way, than Draco Malfoy."

He chuckled at her request. "What language?"

"Um…Italian, I suppose. I like how that sounded."

"Ok. Listen carefully." He leaned into her ear, his hand placed firmly, yet gently on the back of her neck. And, in slow spaced words, he told her how to say it, his lips brushing against her cheek before she sat back. "Your turn."

"L'amo più di la vita, Draco Malfoy," she repeated, her words and pronunciation jagged and unnatural.

"Try again." He sounded almost agitated with her. "Pretend it's English and you need to say it."

She gave him a strange, questioning look, but did as she was told. Her reward was a shining smile, as if she'd just complimented him greatly instead of insulting his magical abilities.

"Again," he whispered huskily.

"What are you making me say, Draco!" Clearly he was trying to make a fool of her, and she would not have it.

"What you wanted to say, bambino," he assured her.

"Don't call me _baby_," she snapped viciously, tumbling off his lap. "I came here for some peace and quiet, and because I couldn't sleep. You were not supposed to be in that equation."

"Funny how I was though."

"_Excuse me_?"

"You said you couldn't sleep," he pointed out. "Which means you were up thinking about me and how much you want me."

She scoffed in disgust, silently baffled that he'd actually guessed her reason for restlessness.

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy," she spat, and trudged from the library, thanking God a hundred times over than they were returning to the castle tomorrow.

"Les rêves doux mon amour."

* * *

It was seven o'clock in the morning and Hermione was the only one up, aside from the dozens of house elves who bustled around unseen, preparing for the day. She made a mental note to razz Draco about owning house elves when she was alone with him again. 

She made her way to the library, almost by memory, and slipping soundlessly through the doors. In a few hours everyone else would be up, and shortly after that they would depart for Hogwarts. She could not simply leave such a treasure until Christmas without one last look. Besides, there were so many books that if she didn't spend a great deal of time in here she would never get to.

Somehow she'd wandered into the deepest corner of the room, a small section of books that were covered with cobwebs and dust. She wished there were someone around to reprimand for such awful care of these relics, and had to instead settle on a loud huff. The books before her were so old, yet seemingly unused, their spine uncreased and in all over beautiful condition. Running her fingers along the bindings, she halted at a plain black leather-bound book, giving no indication of what was inside. She opened it to the first page, realizing immediately that it was no book at all, but a journal that somehow made its way into this dark corner.

"Maybe it's Malfoy's," she laughed cynically as she carried it to the chair she'd been in the night before. She was definitely going to love being able to come here whenever she wanted once she lived her. Perhaps agreeing to stay at the Manor wasn't such a horrible idea after all. "Now let's see what was so secret he had to hide it." But the very first line revealed that her initial assumption had been wrong. It was a journal, but not that of Draco Malfoy. It was owned and hidden by Melantha Blake and, as she read on, page after page jammed with frantic and sometimes blotchy words, she found out exactly _why_ it was left here and in the precise place it was kept on the shelf.

It held the secret which Hermione had seen in her eyes, painted across her face and imbedded in every move she made. And she was no longer suspicious or apprehensive of the woman. She was, on the contrary, completely saddened and guilty that she could have ever doubted her or her motives.

As she closed the journal and tucked it back into its place, she realized, with startling clarity, that she was the only living person—other than Melantha herself, and of course Headmaster Dumbledore, who knew everything—that knew the secret. And she didn't believe, even for a second, that the words she'd read were anything but the truth. For why would she write such things if they were untrue only to hide them away, never to be revealed?

She settled back into her chair, unable to read anything else, her mind wrapped in thoughts of Melantha.

_I have to speak with her_, she thought, her brows knit in concentration. _But how?_

* * *

For the remainder of the day Hermione said little to nothing, which did not go unnoticed by the others. But no one pressed her, figuring that if she needed to talk then she would confront them. Besides, she could never keep secrets from her friends for long. 

After a filling lunch the students went up to their rooms to finish packing and load the carriage. Melantha followed, flittering in and out of the rooms and making small talk with them. Everyone aside from Draco, of course. It was abundantly clear that they were estranged, and that the only reason she agreed to aid Draco was for the unborn baby's sake.

"Did you swallow your tongue?"

Hermione looked up from her suitcase, which she was just now closing, and gave Draco a weak half-hearted smile.

"Well?"

"I'm tired," she lied, hefting the luggage off the bed. Draco immediately came to her aid and wrenched the bag from her hands. She didn't protest.

"You know, Hermione," he said, inches in front of her. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about the other day in the library. I've never known you to be so submissive." His smirk widened across his features.

"You're a good kisser," she said simply, attempting, and failing, to get passed him. He grabbed her wrist and backed her towards the bed, her suitcase forgotten on the floor. He lowered her willingly onto the mattress, his singeing hot lips making trails across her neck, his teeth nibbling here and there at the taut creamy flesh. If he was going to be the father of her child, then he wanted to know what his mind would not allow him to remember. He wanted to know her, lithe and sweaty beneath him.

"You are beautiful, 'Mione," he whispered, his words like honey as they dripped from his lips. And the use of the personal nickname did not go unnoticed by either.

"So are you," she breathed back, capturing his lips. She could no longer deny her physical want for him. It didn't matter in this moment that he was crude and arrogant and that she loathed his very existence. What mattered, pressed deep into the soft covers, was the passion he exuded, and how completely helpless it made her feel. That, and the thoughts that had been racing through her mind since the night before. She wanted so badly to tell him, but at the same time knew it was absolutely impossible. And it was this deciding factor that allowed her to yield to his ministrations like an old lover.

"I have to tell you something," he said, his eyes locked on hers. It had taken more than willpower for him to stop, even for a second, for he knew that this might be the only chance he had to be with her.

"Then tell me."

"Hermione! Draco! Are you ready ye—"

They scrambled to their feet just as Melantha came into the room, their disheveled appearance giving away their recent activities. Draco quickly slipped past his aunt with Hermione's suitcase, mumbling something about packing the carriage.

When their eyes met Melantha's face was a mixture of emotions. It was almost as if she were happy about what she'd walked in on, but there was something deep within her that was also incredibly angry. And Hermione knew that that was the case exactly.

"I thought you knew better than to pursue anything with my nephew," she said rather sternly. "He's a Malfoy—"

"I know, Melantha," Hermione cut in, stepping close enough so that only she could hear.

"Know what?" She'd completely dropped her motherly demeanor.

"I went to the library last night. Buried deep in a far corner, covered in dust, was a black leather journal. And it was yours. I know everything."

"Hermione, you mustn't—"

"I don't plan on saying a word," she assured the older, now very distraught woman. "But you must promise me something in return."

"Anything," she all but cried. And there was no questioning it; the journals had not been lying.

"You'll come clean before I have the baby, before Draco and I move in here with you."

Melantha sighed painfully, but nodded, knowing that it was the right thing to do.

"One more thing."

"Y-Yes?"

"Does anyone else know?"

She nodded slowly, tears rising in her hazy blue-green eyes.

"Who?"

"Dumbledore," she whispered. "Dumbledore, and…and my brother-in-law, Galen Blake."

* * *

Muhahahaha! What, oh what, could this great big secret be? Melantha seems terrified out of her mind that she has to reveal it. But when? Of course I know, heehee, but I'm not telling. Because I'm a cruel author like that :P 

REVIEW! My chickadees!

**In my other genre of fics (DBZ) I've had some of my characters speak many other languages. I thought it fitting that Draco should, seeing as if family is so "sophisticated". And, of course, what I had Draco say to Hermione was not what he told her he said. Now bear with me, because the translations are not entirely accurately, seeing as I got them online and can't speak two words in another language. The phrases are listed in order of appearance.**

**Portuguese: Se somente você souber fraco você me faz—If only you knew how weak you make me.**

**French: Je vous déteste tellement parce que vous êtes tout ce que je peux penser—I hate you so much because you're all I can think about.**

**Spanish: Pero pienso que comienzo a caerme enamorado de usted, y no pienso que quiero pararme—But I think I'm beginning to fall in love with you, and I don't think I want to stop.**

**Italian: E se mai vi dicessi questo ridereste nella mia faccia. Dunque suppongo devo essere contento con proteggere lei ed il bambino—And if I ever told you this you would laugh in my face. So I suppose I have to be content with protecting you and the baby.**

**Italian (What Hermione actually says): L'amo più di la vita, Draco Malfoy—I love you more than life, Draco Malfoy.**

**French (the last thing Draco says): Les rêves doux mon amour—Sweet dreams my love.**


	13. It's A Baby!

Recap:

"Does anyone else know?"

She nodded slowly, tears rising in her hazy blue-green eyes.

"Who?"

"Dumbledore," she whispered. "Dumbledore, and…and my brother-in-law, Galen Blake."

* * *

Chapter 13: It's A Baby!

Hermione and Draco walked eagerly towards the infirmary, the halls surprisingly warm despite the frigid winter outside. Today was the day they would find out for certain whether Hermione was carrying a boy or a girl.

They had just about reached the doors, when Draco casually pulled her aside and into a deserted corridor. Hermione bit her bottom lip; she'd been dreading this moment since they returned to Hogwarts. She'd hardly seen him since the weekend, and when she did they were never alone.

"Draco, I know what you're going to say," she blurted out, her back pressed against the wall, as far from him as she could get. "And I've been thinking a lot about it, and, well…Draco, there's no possible way for us to have any sort of a relationship. I know you've been trying, and that you _think_ you have strong feelings for me, but really it's only your hormones. And to be very blunt, that day at your house I only wanted…sex."

To her complete surprise he smiled at her last statement.

"What?" Now she was confused.

"That's not what I was going to say," he said, laughter evident behind his voice. "Not that I haven't been giving that thought as well," he added with a wink.

"Then what?" She fought with every cell in her body to keep the color from rising in her cheeks.

"I think I found a name we can both agree on."

"Let's find out the gender first," she said, trying to walk around him. He pulled her back, forcing his mouth on hers. And this time, she was moved in a completely different way. She shoved him back as hard as she could, her eyes flaring with anger. He stumbled backwards, the back of his head colliding with the hard stone wall. Why did he think he could just do that! "Do I have 'Violate me' written on my forehead or something! Because I don't remember a time I _ever_ said it was ok for you to kiss me!"

"You know what I find incredibly hard to believe?" he hissed, his hand pressed firmly on the throbbing bump on his head.

"What _Draco_?"

"That after having read the dreams I wrote out for you and knowing of the relationship we had, you can _still_ be so damn stubborn with me!"

"Listen to me," she said through her teeth, yanking him forward by his collar to ensure he heard her words. "I don't give a damn about your stupid memory-dreams. They mean _nothing_ to me. They've been completely useless in helping me figure out how I was stupid enough to get myself into this mess! I'm not going to be with you just because I'm having your baby, or because we somehow used to be together, or…or because you think we should be together. None of that matters to me, don't you get it? I hate you now more than ever, and I'm just fine with that. And the _only_ reason I have ever submitted to your advances was because I'm human and have hormones just like everyone else. I don't love you."

"So you're just going to ignore the past?"

"That's exactly right. What happened is in the past, and that's where it belongs."

"But we—"

"Look me in the eyes when I say this." He obliged, his fiery rage mirroring her own. "I do _not_ love you, Draco, and I _never_ will."

"Say it again," he sneered, sticking his nose in her face. "I love to hear you say it."

"Draco—"

"You know something Hermione? You are exactly the way everyone says you are. A snotty, pushy, know-it-all who only does anything if it benefits her, and if not then the hell with everyone else!"

"Well maybe I could think about considering giving you a chance if you didn't try to shove your tongue down my throat every five seconds! I'm not one of your play things, Malfoy! I'm your _enemy_!"

"You—" But his voice, as well as his anger, fell. And with a heavy sigh he accepted his defeat. He would never have her, no matter how hard he tried. "I've never cared about any of the girls I've slept with," he said, his voice trembling. For an instant Hermione actually thought he might cry, though she couldn't fathom why. They'd fought a million times, hurling insults phenomenally worse. Certainly this wasn't the last straw. "I don't even _remember_ being with you, but, for some reason, I can't get you out of my head. You've completely ruined my life, Hermione! I could have lived on never feeling what I feel right now and be the better for it, because at least then I would never know the pain that came with it!"

"What are you talking about!" she demanded, undeterred by his performance. As a Slytherin he would implore any means possible to meet his own ends.

"What am I talking about?" he laughed, shaking his head almost violently. "I'm talking about how weak I get when I'm around you! I'm talking about the dreams! And when I kiss you! And when you're angry or happy or upset or scared! I'm talking…I'm talking about what you've done to me, what's happened to me."

"And what's happened?" Her words were so cold and full of hatred even she felt startled by them. When had she become so heartless?

"I fell in love with you," he snarled, as if it were an insult, then turned and stalked off, leaving her alone and trembling in her shock and confusion.

* * *

It took nearly ten minutes for Hermione to collect herself and continue on to the infirmary. With or without Draco she was going to find out what her child was. She wanted to be angry—and rightfully so she thought—but his last statement prevented her from being anything but sad. She felt sorry for him, for there was no denying that he had been telling the truth. She felt sorry because not only had he spilled his heart, but she couldn't return the feelings. She did not love him, no matter how attracted she was to him, for there was more to love than attraction and the connection they shared with the baby.

It absolutely baffled her that, after only two months of knowing the truth of paternity, that Draco could form such strong feelings for her. Perhaps the reason he'd sounded so convincing was because he truly believed that he did love her. How or why he believed this was beyond her, and she hoped he would come to his senses soon and realize just who she was and how they were supposed to act towards one another.

_Why does he insist on upsetting the natural order of things_? she thought bitterly, then slipped into the infirmary.

* * *

Harry and Ginny waited impatiently in the common room for Hermione to return with the news. And while their friend firmly believed she carried a boy, for reasons unknown to them, there was always a chance the always-right Hermione could be wrong.

"You know something," Harry said, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" She didn't look at him, her eyes glued to the porthole. Any minute now she could return.

"I think I'm beginning to feel alright about all this." Ginny's eyes snapped on her boyfriend, her face brightening with a smile. "I mean, despite who the father is, Hermione is really happy about the baby. I never would have thought that coming from our bookworm," he laughed.

"But she'll make a great mother. Her kids are going to be the smartest in the entire wizarding world."

"Kids!" came a mock-shocked voice from the doorway. "I think I'll stick with one illegitimate child for now."

"'Mione!" they cried in unison, bombarding her with hugs.

"What is it?" Ginny demanded, pressing her hands to Hermione's belly.

"It's a baby, what else?"

"Hermione Granger!" Harry snapped playfully. "You tell us right now or—"

"Ok, ok. I don't want the great Harry Potter angry with me," she laughed, leading them over to the couch they'd been sitting on. She'd decided on her walk back to the tower that she wouldn't trouble Harry with what Draco had told her; Ginny, on the other hand, was a gossipmonger and would no doubt assault her verbally if she found out before Hermione told her. "You want me to just say it or t—"

"Just say it!" they both practically shouted. This was just too much fun for her!

"It's a boy," she said calmly, a hanger-sized smile pulled at her face. Not that she wouldn't have wanted a little girl, but the idea of having a boy just made her giddy all over. Perhaps her next child—who she would wait for marriage to the man she fell in love with—would be a girl.

"So you were right," Ginny said excitedly. "Oh! I'm so happy for you!"

"Still no luck on the name though," Hermione sighed.

"You have four months to figure that out," Harry reminded her. "Don't worry about it. When it's the right name you'll know it."

"You think?"

"I know," he said with a smile, pulling her close to give her a kiss on the forehead. "Now, tell me what my price limit is for buying stuff for the baby."

* * *

Ginny threw herself backwards on the bed, crying out with tears running down her face. Anyone outside the door might mistake her cried for pain, when in fact she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. When she was able to slow her breathing to normal, she sat up and wiped at her eyes, a small giggle still in her throat.

"And he said it with a straight face?" she asked, wanting to know every little detail. This was big news indeed. Daily Prophet news!

"I really think he believes it's true," Hermione sighed, exasperated. Ginny might have been enjoying herself, but Hermione knew that with this new "revelation" came a thousand and one headaches and arguments with Draco. She didn't know if she had the energy or the patience to be alone with him again. "We were yelling back and forth, and then, all of a sudden, he gets really quiet and his voice is shaking. And when he said…what he said, it sounded so spiteful, like I'd hurt him somehow."

"Well you know what it sounds like to me?"

"What?"

"That he really does love you. I mean, he never even acknowledged that he _liked_ the girls he slept with, and here is his confessing he loves you. It's not entirely impossible, you know."

"For Draco?" she laughed. "Yes, it is. I think his brain was scrambled when we lost our memories."

"Well we're just going to have to wait and see if he lives up to it."

"Lives up to it? What do you—"

A knock at the door silenced her immediately. Ginny slowly climbed off the bed and answered it, a little more than shocked at who was on the other side.

"Lavender? What do you want?" As far as she and Hermione were concerned, Lavender was the reason any of this mess had happened in the first place. She deserved any and all glares and insults directed at her.

"To speak with Hermione for a moment," she answered, ignoring Ginny's blatant rudeness. "Alone."

"Whatever you have to say you can say it in front of me, right Hermione?"

But the brown-haired girl remained silent on the bed.

"Herm—"

"I'll come get you when we're done," she said, casting her eyes at the floor.

"But Hermione!"

"Please Gin," she sighed. Wasn't there some rule that said pregnant women weren't supposed to be stressed?

"Fine," she huffed, shoving into Lavender as she exited the room, her nose turned up.

"Don't mind her," Hermione laughed nervously. It was the first time since "that night" that the two girls had been anywhere near each other, let alone by themselves. "She thinks she needs to protect me or something."

"I didn't come here for me," Lavender admitted, staying close to the door. "I came here for—"

"Ron. I figured that. That's why I told Ginny to leave."

"Then you're willing to speak with him?"

Hermione shrugged and nodded. Since she'd learned she was pregnant, everything else took on a muted hue. Besides, she never planned on being cold to Ron forever. Only enough time for him to realize just how much he'd hurt her, not only with the events Lavender revealed, but with his behavior regarding her and Draco. And before she agreed to hear him out she wanted to know just how sorry he was.

"Tell him I'll meet him in his room in ten minutes."

"Sure."

"And Lavender?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

She was noticeably startled, and very confused.

"If you hadn't done what you did I might have been hurt much worse in the future."

Once she was alone again, Hermione found her thoughts were again centered on Draco. He was such a cold, hard, arrogant person, his past rooted with hatred and evil. Yet the Draco she'd come to know these past few months was somewhat different, while still bearing the elements essential to being a Slytherin and a Malfoy. He showed her that he could be kind and caring and selfless. She knew without any hint of a doubt that he would make a wonderful father to their son. There was no questioning that, or the fact that she herself would be safe at the Manor. But to go so far as to think he was in love with her? She simply didn't understand what could have possessed him to come to such a conclusion.

Finally, as she headed towards the boys' dormitory, she decided that she would speak with Draco directly about it. There was no sense in keeping secrets if they would be living together. Which brought her to another unsettling thought—Melantha's secret. It was obvious that she hadn't said a word yet, and Hermione wondered just how long she would go on with yet another person knowing and not say a word. Maybe she was milling it over, deciding on the best way to breech the topic and receive the least backlash. Whatever the case she hoped she came clean soon, because Hermione didn't know how much longer she could stand keeping it to herself.

She walked into Ron's room without knocking and found him sitting nervously on his bed, his eyes wide and almost scared when he saw her.

"I didn't agree to speak with you so I could yell at you," she said off the bat. His rigid back went lax immediately. "But I do want to get something straight before I listen to anything you have to say on our situation."

"Yes?" His voice sounded so small, so un-Ron like. It made her sad to think that they'd grown so far apart in only a short time. Maybe their friendship hadn't been as strong as she always believed.

"First, why do you want to speak with me?"

"I want to apologize," he said quickly, as if rehearsed. "I want…I want you to know that I know it's my fault that this happened. If I hadn't been so stupid and selfish you would never be in the mess you are with Malfoy…I don't expect you to forgive me, I just wanted you to know that I regret what I did…and I hope there is still a chance you can have a happy life with how much I've screwed it up."

"Don't worry about my future," she said, coming to sit opposite him. "I'm happy now, so I don't foresee anything more tragic than what's already happened that could crush me."

"You're not upset about the baby?"

"Not anymore."

He smiled meekly. He had been so prepared for a raging battle.

"Now that we got that out of the way," she continued. "I want to know something else."

"Anything." She had to suppress her laughter at his willingness to please her.

"When are you going to ask out Lavender?"

* * *

I know everyone wanted to know Melantha's secret in this chapter, but trust me, it'll come soon enough. Perhaps in the one after this. I don't know, maybe I'll think of another twist between then and now, heehee! I so love my twists!

REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!

A lot of you inquired about the library scene. And yes, I did get it from Beauty and the Beast. I always loves that scene in the movie and that it would be fitting here. :)


	14. Pandora's Box

Recap:

"Now that we got that out of the way," she continued. "I want to know something else."

"Anything." She had to suppress her laughter at his willingness to please her.

"When are you going to ask out Lavender?"

* * *

Chapter 14: Pandora's Box

Ron's face was blank, his eyes overcast with the haze of his confusion. Had she just said what he thought she said? Surely she didn't think that he would want any sort of a relationship with Lavender after what had happened, and especially because of his feelings for Hermione. He'd hardly even looked at the girl since that night in the common room, so why did Hermione think he would want to _date_ her? Couldn't she see the love he had for her? Wasn't his excruciating pain clear enough?

But, with all that raced through his mind, only two simple words came rushing out.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Hermione laughed. Of course she knew what his reaction would be, but seeing that look on his face was just too priceless. Besides, who said she wasn't allowed to have a little—and very well-deserved—fun with this?

"Why would you think that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked in all seriousness. It was a logical enough question. "You were with her after all." There was nothing bitter or resentful in her voice, giving both of them pause. And quite abruptly, she realized that she was no longer upset about anything that had happened, even the pregnancy and who the father was, because, if she could still live and breathe after all that, then there was nothing that could touch her. She truly did have a shot at the life she always dreamed of.

"I don't even think of her," he half lied. Of course he thought of her, but only so far as she was the reason he no longer held Hermione in his arms. He knew he held most of the blame, however, but if she had never told him she fancied him then none of this would have happened.

"Well you should," she found herself saying. "She's a nice girl. And I want you to be happy."

He smiled at this. How could she fit such a big heart inside her?

"And you think asking Lavender out is the way to go about that?"

"Well you will have to apologize to her first. But after that I think there's a real chance there."

"Apologize?" He hadn't the faintest idea what she was talking about.

"Yes," she said, her voice the slightest bit firmer. "You've been ignoring her since that night, aside from the errand you had her run tonight. She didn't do anything worse than what you did."

"You know, I think your maternal instincts are kicking in a little too soon."

His jest stunned them both. He tried to speak, fumbling over his words, when Hermione silenced him with a light touch of her hand on his knee. He stared at her a moment, then loosened his tense shoulders, easing against the headboard.

"I missed this," she said. "I missed the Ron I knew."

"He suffered some severe brain trauma, but he's better now."

"Is he really? Even about Draco?" She was pushing it and she knew it, but what did she have to lose?

"If you're ok with it then I suppose I should be too. After all, we're all in the same boat as far as Malfoy in concerned."

"Yeah," she sighed, her eyes drifting to her feet. At least she thought she was on the same page as her friends. _Of course I am_, she thought angrily. _Right?_

* * *

Almost twenty minutes after shunning her, Hermione found Ginny stewing in the common room. She sat hunched on the window sill by the fireplace, her eyes looking at nothing inparticular, if she was seeing at all. Undoubtedly she was trying to figure out why she'd been sent away.

"I had to do it alone," Hermione said, her shadow casting her red-headed friend into darkness. "I knew Lavender was there because of Ron, and I decided a few days ago that when he confronted me I would speak with him."

"And what happened?" Ginny sneered. She hadn't spoken a single syllable to either Ron or Lavender. What they had done was completely unforgivable in her eyes. She loathed cheaters; it would take a lot more for her to reconcile with him, family or not.

"He apologized and was awkward and fumbly. I forgave him awhile ago, Gin. I realized that the only reason I was ever mad was because he embarrassed me. I never loved him the way I thought I did, and I want him to be happy."

"He stabbed you in the back!" she blurted out, jumping to her feet. "How can you forgive _that_!"

"I don't see the way you do," Hermione said calmly. "I see something with him and Lavender, and I don't want something as silly as my anger at being embarrassed to get in the way of that."

"I—" She stopped herself, noticing the eyes of the others in the room on her. That, and she wasn't really mad at Hermione, only puzzled. How was she able to forgive him so easily? "I don't understand," she sighed. "But it's your life. I guess I have nothing to argue about."

"Exactly," Hermione laughed. "Now if you'll excuse me I have a pressing matter to attend to."

"What sort of matter?"

"My son thinks my bladder is a _trampoline_!"

* * *

Melantha sat rigid and wide-eyed, her black leather journal grasped tightly in both hands. But it was not her written words, or the secret she held, that caused her body to tremble and her skin to crawl. The security at Malfoy Manor was supposed to be impenetrable, with only those outside gaining access when permitted by those on the inside. Or if they were a member of the Malfoy family, by either blood or marriage.

"How did you get in?" she demanded, her rigid demeanor returning with ruthless force as the seriousness of the situation became clear. It didn't matter an ounce to her that the pernicious girl standing before her, her waxy brown hair pulled back into a painful-looking bun, was young enough to be her daughter. Her name was Desdemona, she was barely eighteen years old, and she was a skilled and vicious Death Eater of little over a year. Melantha knew nothing else of her, other than she seemed to have shown up at Voldemort's side out of thin air, and had been hanging close under his wing ever since.

"I walked through the door," the yellow-eyed beauty laughed. It was her pale yellowish eyes, if nothing else, that had chilled Melantha the most from the moment she first saw her at the gatherings. "The Dark Lord advised me to not reveal my lineage, for many reasons. He has suspected your disloyalty for some time."

"If I'm to be killed then why was only a silly little girl sent?" Melantha sneered with a hint of laughter. She had seen the girl duel, and though she was a perfectly good fighter, she was no match.

"As you must know, my dear Melantha, news of your nephew's approaching fatherhood has swept far beyond the walls of Hogwarts Castle. And with Lucius tragically gone, our Lord saw a brilliant opportunity before him."

"I will not let anyone touch a hair on that child's head!" She was to her feet before she told her brain to stand. Wand at the ready, she was trembling with rage.

"But the wheels are already in motion, you deceitful old woman."

"No one can touch him or anyone I love while they're under this roof!"

"But you forget so quickly," Desdemona laughed. "I was able to come through the doors of Malfoy Manor. No one knew who I was or where I came from for a reason. My name is Desdemona Malfoy, proud niece of the late Lucius Malfoy."

"You're assuming that you'll make it out the front door to come crashing back in with your cohorts," Melantha sneered, and without a moment's hesitation cast a curse far more powerful than necessary to take the girl's life. But the heavens were in favor of the dark witch, and instead of taking her life, it took her memory, leaving her curled on the floor of the library in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. "Either way," Melantha said to the witless child, "you won't come near my family."

But she knew, a stiff knot forming in her gut, that this was by no means the end of it. Desdemona Malfoy was expendable in Voldemort's eyes. She knew the road that lay ahead of her—the dark and treacherous road to peace—but it scared her not, for she vowed to protect her family at any cost.

There was only one thing she had to do before alerting the Order.

She had to go to Draco and reveal the secret that had been plaguing her for more than half her life.

* * *

The biting wind whipped through the room with relentless force, swirling glittering snowflakes in all directions. But Draco cared not. He was numb to the cold, to any feeling, sitting slumped on the stone windowsill. How could he have been so blind? So stupid to believe that Hermione could have actually loved him in return? But if he never told her then he knew the "what ifs" would plague him for the rest of his life.

And the very worst part was not that she didn't love him, and not that he still loved her and would continue to, but that he could never escape her. She would be there, around every corner, for the rest of his life. They would raise their son together and feign being comfortable. He would never bring up his feelings to her again, not after his humiliating defeat only hours before. But, somehow, he knew she would know just by looking at him that he still loved her.

It was inevitable that she would begin dating, perhaps immediately. Perhaps even before they graduated. He didn't know who was stupid enough to try to be with her while Draco was around and highly volatile. Whoever that person was had better be prepared for hell on earth.

"Draco."

He turned his head slowly in the direction of the fireplace, where seconds before he'd heard someone Floo in. without looking he would have known it was his aunt, her permission to enter his room fireplace granted by the Headmaster. Which meant that something important was going on.

Ignoring the sinking feeling in his gut, and her dirty and disheveled appearance, he said, "I don't remember inviting you."

"You, Hermione, and your son are in terrible danger."

"What are you talking about?" he snapped, his pulse jumping.

"A young girl by the name Desdemona Malfoy—"

"My cousin," he said. He'd remember that name anywhere. Though he didn't know the girl, he knew his father had always been very fond of her.

"You know her!"

"Of course I know her. Now tell me what the hell is going on!"

"She showed up at the Manor this evening, attempting to kill me, or so I thought." Her eyes were cast at the floor, her heart sinking. She didn't know how it happened, how Voldemort had found out, but, because of her, they were all in grave danger. "I cursed her so badly that she's now nothing more than a vegetable. And then I dressed in my darkest cloak and apparated, carrying her with me to Voldemort and any Death Eaters that were there."

"Why the hell did you do that?" Draco demanded, furious that she wouldn't get to the point.

"Because Desdemona mentioned the baby. I had to go and find out what he planned to do, and stop him." Draco's spirits lifted. So that's why she looked so roughed up; she'd fought and—wait, she said they _are_ in danger, not _were_. His hopes sank once more and he listened intently. She was telling him these things for a reason. "The instant they saw me I was bound with a spell and interrogated. But I wouldn't say a word, and because he thought he would kill me right after, he told me his horrid plans." She found it increasingly difficult to keep her breathing normal. Her knuckles were sheer white, her head throbbing with pain and fear. "There exists a spell that, if done correctly, could bring Voldemort immense power, power far greater than even he knew. And any additional power on his side, no matter how small, is never good."

"Get to the point!"

"For the spell you need many difficult to find and grow items, but most importantly is what he sought from our family…He needs the blood of his enemies, but not only that. The blood must come from _three_ specific people; a parent, a child, and a grandchild. And at least two have to be male…"

"That doesn't make any sense!" he yelled, clenching the billowing curtains in his fists in a vain attempt to quell his fear and anger. "My parents are both dead! And neither was an enemy to Voldemort!"

"That's not _entirely_ true," Melantha said, keeping her eyes expertly on him. He looked away, his sight settling on the Dark Mark imbedded in the flesh of her arm. For the welfare of everyone else—and not taking her own life into consideration—Melantha had offered, so many years before, to cross enemy lines and become a Death Eater, leaking all that she learned to the Order. No one had asked her to do it; no one had even suggested it, even thought of it. She had come up with the idea all on her own, risking her life for the benefit of others. And no one ever knew why.

"What do you mean _not entirely_? I saw first hand how evil my parents were! There is no way they were on our side!"

"But one of your parents was his enemy, Draco. And still is."

"You're not making any sense!" But in his heart he knew that she would never say something like that unless she was convinced it was true. Could his mother or father really have been innocent of their charges? Had one of them been like Melantha, secretly infiltrating Voldemort's opposition to gain information and advantage?

He found that impossible to believe.

"I've seen them do horrible things to other witches and wizards! They've tortured them simply for sport! How could either of them actually be good! And furthermore, they're both dead, so he can't use their blood!"

"Do you remember when you and I started to become hateful towards one another?" she asked. She was trembling so much she feared she might be sick.

"What in Merlin's name does that have to do with _anything_?"

"You don't remember when because there was never a time that you and I ever got along. Even when you were a small child, I was always glaring at you, taking your toys, feeding you foods I knew you hated. As you grew older I came around less and less, and when I did, I was so cruel to you that you grew to hate me as much as I thought I hated you."

"This might be hard to believe," he said angrily and sarcastically, "but I don't care why you hated me. Nothing you did was any different from what my parents did, or anyone else in the family."

"I thought I had a reason to hate you," she whispered, drawing a plain black leather-bound book from her cloak. She took several steps forward, the dried blood on her face looking black in the moonlight. "Don't be angry with her, but Hermione discovered this journal in your library. She confronted me about it and I begged her not to say a word. It is very clear that she kept her word, and so I am here to fulfill my end of the bargain."

"Why would I care that she read your stupid journal?" he sneered. But his mind screamed at him, itching to learn what was inside, for he actually did want to know what reason she thought she had for treating him the way she did. She was the nicest, sweetest, most caring person to everyone—except for him. With the rest of his family they had been malicious to everyone, unless, of course, that person possessed something they wanted and faked kindness was needed. At least with them he didn't have to wonder.

"Here," she said, handing him the book. Hesitantly he took it. "Open it to the page I have marked and read the paragraph I circled.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, turning to the correct page. The words were small and jammed together, but clear as day, appearing to have been written with great care. He had to read it four times to be sure it said what he thought it did. And then, giving the expected reaction, he pitched the journal at Melantha and cried, "It's not true! You're lying!"

"No, Draco," she said solemnly, keeping her distance. "And Voldemort somehow knows. We are all in danger."

He sank low to the floor, shaking his head and mumbling over and over that it wasn't true. But something deep within him knew that it was. It explained so much. He was about to reach for the journal that had landed a few feet away, after ricocheting off his aunt, when a terrifying thought shot through him like a thousand daggers. He raced to the door and nearly made it out, when Melantha grabbed his arm, yanking him back into the room.

"Where are you going?" she asked calmly. She had to stay levelheaded if she was going to protect them.

"To Hermione!" he spat, wrenching himself free. "She needs to know this too!"

"Let me go with you. Let me be the one to tell her."

"Why!"

"Because!" She grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. "You are too distraught to tell her anything without getting her in hysterics! And that is the worst thing you could do to her right now."

"You can't expect me to just sit here when she and my son are in danger! I have to see her!"

"No," she said with finality, then raised her wand, quickly saying the spell before he could deflect it or counteract her. Instantly he fell into a stone cold sleep in her arms. She placed him gently on the bed and kissed his forehead, leaving her journal open to the marked page on his bedside table.

It broke her heart every time she looked at more than two words in the journal. But that particular paragraph had been one of the hardest to write. And it read:

_My vicious sister and her foul husband are granting me one request. But after killing my beloved husband, violating me, and imprisoning me here, left with only my nightmares for what's to come—after all they have done to me with no remorse this small favor is nothing to them. They are allowing me to name my son, the tiny wizard that grows in my belly, the baby that they will rip from my arms the moment he is born. And I am naming him Draco._

* * *

Well there you have it, Melantha is actually Draco's mother. A few of you guessed it in reviews, so congrates! I'm proud :) I didn't think it was that obvious. I'm sure that there are a million unanswered questions as for how this is possible, why it happened, and how it was kept a secret for so long. And most importantly—how Melantha _allowed_ this to happen, for one would think a mother would fight to the death for her child…I will answer all these questions, and more, in chapters to come. You know me, I love being mysterious :P Oh, and there is a perfectly good explanation for why Melantha hated her own son.

REVIEW! Because you know you want to!

Note: Please don't yell at me or curse me in your reviews. I have pretty good reasons for doing what I did. Besides, it's my story, I can do what I want, heehee!


	15. Pensieve

Recap:

It broke her heart every time she looked at more than two words in the journal. But that particular paragraph had been one of the hardest to write. And it read:

_My vicious sister and her foul husband are granting me one request. But after killing my beloved husband, violating me, and imprisoning me here, left with only my nightmares for what's to come—after all they have done to me with no remorse this small favor is nothing to them. They are allowing me to name my son, the tiny wizard that grows in my belly, the baby that they will rip from my arms the moment he is born. And I am naming him Draco._

* * *

Chapter 15: Pensieve 

"What do you need me to do?" Hermione asked, pulling on her cloak as if she meant to go after Voldemort at this very moment. "I'll do anything for them."

"You don't need to do anything right now," Melantha sighed. "Voldemort won't make another move until after the baby is born. But even then there isn't much you could do in the condition you'll be in."

"I don't care if I've given birth to ten babies! I am going to be there and fight with you for their lives!"

"Why do you pretend you don't care for Draco?"

"Why do you hate him?" she sneered back, striking a nerve. Her journal had only gone so far as the night she'd moved out of Malfoy Manor, the night she hid her secrets in their vast collection of unused books.

Melantha took in a deep shaky breath, then motioned towards the door.

"Come with me," she said, masking none of her bleeding heart.

Hermione didn't budge.

"Where?"

"To the Manor. I have something I need to show you."

"And what might that be?" But she was completely willing; anything to get off the subject of her and Draco.

"My pensieve."

* * *

Flashback (in Melantha's pensieve): 

Her silky strawberry-blonde locks blew carelessly in the cool evening breeze, soothing the hot red flesh of her cheeks. She was lying on top of him, her beautiful and loving husband, her body trembling with unbridled emotion.

"I love you," he whispered up at her, his voice steady.

"I...love you too," she cried, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "I love you…"

Her head flew back like a whip, a strong hand grasping a clump of her hair. She looked up in horror at the face that loomed over her; her vicious and ruthless brother-in-law—Lucius Malfoy.

"What a beautiful sentiment," he laughed and gave her hair another yank, forcing her to her feet. "Now, Melantha my dear, may we discuss my proposition? I hardly see any reason for you to refuse me again."

He only managed to drag her two steps, when she sunk her teeth into his arm, then raced for the still figure of her husband lying in the grass. His soft black hair swept perfectly across his forehead. He looked so peaceful, as if he were sleeping; nothing about him was harmed. Not a hair was missing.

"Dante!" she sobbed, throwing herself on him. It took all of Lucius' strength to pull her away. And, this time, he threw her over his shoulder to carry her into the Manor. She beat and clawed at his back, kneed him in the chest, bit his shoulder and ear to draw blood. But her efforts were in vain, for, before she noticed, she was tossed unceremoniously onto a couch. She tried to move, to jump up and ring his neck, only to find that he'd put a powerful binding spell on her. And without her wand she had no chance of freeing herself.

"Are you finally finished?" Narcissa asked, scrolling into the room as though they'd only been outside playing a game of crochet.

"She was being troublesome _again_," Lucius sighed. "I simply do not understand why she is so adamant about not helping her own sister and brother-in-law. Does family mean nothing?"

"You are _not_ my family!" Melantha screamed, wrenching her back as she tried to lunge at them. "Your wretched mother adopted me because she knew you would amount to nothing!"

"How dare you speak to me that way!" Narcissa barked, brining the back of her hand across her face. "My mother gave you everything you could have asked for! And for what? A filthy ingrate who ran off with a mudblood! You're a disgrace to the Black name!"

"I am no Black," Melantha sneered through her teeth. "My name is Melantha Sauda Blake! Wife to Dante Xavier Blake! And no matter how long it takes me I will avenge his death!"

"That is just so precious," Lucius mocked, grabbing her by the collar. He kissed her roughly, relishing in the fact that she could do nothing to defend herself. "Did you turn the bed down, Narcissa?" He didn't even bother looking over his shoulder at her, his eyes locked on Melantha's, his pulse pounding at the thought of her naked little body. At seventeen, just barely old enough to be married, she was a full-grown full-figured woman, looking nearly twenty. Lucius, who was seven years her senior, cared not about her age or relation to his wife. After all, it was _their_ plan, not only his, though he did get to experience far more benefits. She was a gorgeous youth, and he would have to be completely blind to not want to explore her womanly curves.

"Yes, Lucius," Narcissa replied, not phased in the least by the scene before her. "Come find me in the west den when you're finished…Oh, and Melantha dear. If you so much as _think_ about trying to escape I will not hesitate to dispose of you the way you should have been the moment you walked through the door with that sorry excuse for a wizard…Have fun." And with a wink and a wave of her delicate little hand, she was gone.

-break-

In a dimly lit corner of the library, Melantha sat her mind absorbing every word in a book that sat propped on her swollen belly. There were dozens more texts scattered around her, all on the same topic: dark magic. She had formulated her revenge plan some months ago and had been working tirelessly ever since to fill her mind with every shred of dark magic she could obtain.

The sound of footsteps broke her concentration, and she looked up to find Lucius standing over her. He was smiling, his arms crossed haughtily over his chest. She smiled up at him, reaching her arm up so he could lift her to her feet. Part one of her plan was to make Narcissa and Lucius think that she'd come to terms with her fate and accepted it as the punishment she "deserved" for marrying Dante Blake.

"Narcissa and I have a surprise for you, my sweet," he purred, cupping her face in his hands. Ever since that night, the night her beloved perished, Lucius could not keep his eyes or hands off her. Thankfully, however, he had only forced her to his bed twice more. He hadn't touched her that way in many months now; no one wanted to sleep with a dead body.

"You need not buy me anything," she said sweetly with a hint of a giggle. What he didn't know was that the true reason behind her laughter was the thought of tearing his head from his body with her bare hands.

"We didn't buy you a thing," he assured her, and, taking her hand, led her out of the library and into the grand dining hall where Narcissa waited. The table was lavished in a spread of delicious delicacies; Melantha felt her stomach turn. She could never decide who she loathed more: husband or wife.

"Lucius tells me you requested something of us a few weeks back."

Her heart fluttered. No, they wouldn't!

"Yes, sister, I did."

"Well," she said, smiling warmly, fakely, "today is your lucky day, Me'tha." It took all over her willpower to keep from cringing at the use of her nickname, something only few called her. And Dante had definitely been one of them. "We agreed that you may choose the baby's first name. He will of course have our last name, and Lucius and myself will choose the middle name. After all, he will be _our_ child."

"Are you sure?" Melantha asked, her hands balled into fists, grasping handfuls of the bottom of her shirt.

"Of course, dear. Did you have something in mind?"

"There's only one name I could ever choose," she whispered, her eyes misting. "It's strong and powerful…It's the name I always wanted for a son…It's Italian for dragon…I want to name him Draco."

-break-

Draco Malfoy was born on June 5th, healthy and beautiful. Melantha spent one night with her newborn baby boy, soaking in every last second, before leaving the Manor. Narcissa and Lucius insisted that she stay at least until she was fit to travel, but she convinced them that she had urgent business regarding her pureblood roots. And without anymore conflict she left, not returning again until her son's first birthday, a day she would never forget.

"Melantha, darling!" Narcissa had her wrapped in a tight bear hug before she was even across the threshold. Normally this type of behavior for the Malfoys was u heard of—but, then again, not everyone held such a secret as Melantha, a secret that could ruin them all. "I'm so pleased you could make it! We thought for sure your affairs would interfere with Draco's birthday."

"I found time I drag myself away," she said, pulling up her robe sleeve. "But it wasn't easy."

Both Lucius and Narcissa grinned ear to ear as their eyes fell on the brilliantly etched image of a snake slithering through the open mouth of a skull. They had been most anxious to learn when she had officially joined their ranks. They hadn't even heard of her at the gatherings, but knew it was only a matter of time.

"Magnificent," Lucius said, taking the younger woman's arm. They only went a short way, ending in the dining room, where a small blond-haired, gray-eyed baby sat, looking rather grumpy in a highchair. "Draco hasn't been fed yet this morning," he informed her, gently pushing her into the chair before the chubby little child. Her hand trembled as a small rubber-coated spoon was placed in her palm. "We thought you would like to do it while we went to buy his gifts."

Before she could protest, the apparated out of sight, leaving her alone and terrified with the son she had only seen once. In her year away from the Manor—her body and mind tested to their limits through her rigorous Death Eater training—she had nearly forgotten about Draco. She had begun to think he was only a dream. And he was all too real now, his angry gray eyes staring hungrily at the bowl of food that sat on the table beside her.

It took her nearly five full minutes to collect herself and gather some mushy food on the spoon. She pressed the spoon to his lips, only to have him spit it back out, spraying her newly cleaned and pressed robes with slimy baby slop.

"You horrid creature!" she hissed, flying to her feet. Draco laughed happily in his highchair, his short legs kicking wildly. "Look what you did to my robes!" The more she yelled, the more he laughed.

His laughter stopped promptly when she yanked him out of his chair, glaring deep into his shocked eyes.

"You are not my son," she sneered, setting him roughly back into his highchair. "You're being raised by my worst enemies, which makes you no better than them! They've poisoned you!"

She left without leaving any sign of where she was going or when she would return; and she wouldn't return for nearly another whole year, harder and farther from her goal. She was losing sight of what really mattered, what she had been planning for so long—she was losing herself.

Hours later Narcissa and Lucius would come back, furious that she would leave their son alone and unfed. But they would get over it. And in time she would become their most trusted and loyal asset.

End Flashback:

* * *

Hermione said nothing for a long while, her eyes stinging with the threat of tears. But she refused to cry. She needed to be strong and stay strong if she was going to protect her son. 

"You forgot everything," she whispered, turning from the pensieve.

"Yes," Melantha admitted, her lips stiff with refreshed anger and hatred at what she'd been through, what she'd had to go through again only moments ago. "I was seventeen, just out of Hogwarts, when I married Dante. We were married for two months when Lucius came to me with what he called 'an urgent crisis'. It seemed Narcissa, my horrible quasi-sister, was unable to carry her children to term. She had three miscarriages when they decided to bring me into their twisted little world…"

"How long were you an actual Death Eater before you went to Dumbledore?"

At this the once sturdy older woman collapsed into a chair in tears. Hermione was so stunned she could do nothing for several minutes. Finally, regaining her senses, she knelt beside the grandmother of her son, stroking the back of her head in a slow, soothing motion.

"After that day," she said, referring to Draco's first birthday, "I never went back unless I absolutely had to. Slowly, I forgot who I was, who Draco was to me. I became his spiteful aunt, and the prized family member to his 'parents'. I spent eight years as a loyal Death Eater, completely convincing because I had been so pushed and pulled and manipulated by everyone around me…When I was twenty-five, Dumbledore approached me in a pub in Hogsmeade. It was the only time I've ever seen him close to tears…" She took a shaky breath before she could continue. "He spoke of Draco, who was now eight, of course, and how much like his father and Narcissa they were. He knew—but I will never know how—that Draco was in fact my son…Months later, after visiting the Manor at Lucius' request, I found myself overcome with emotion at the sight of the tiny Lucius replica that was my son. I excused myself immediately and fled to Dumbledore…Without even the _slightest_ hesitation, he welcomed me into the Order with open arms."

"But you were still cruel to him," Hermione pointed out. She wasn't trying to be mean by bringing it up. She wanted to know _why_.

"He had become everything I hated, what I'd unwittingly became myself. I was too young and foolish to realize that it was because I'd fled in fear and sorrow over my lost husband that Draco turned out that way. If I had been a kind, nurturing aunt…Oh, what's it matter?" she asked with a shrug, wiping her eyes. "He denounced his family and Voldemort without ever knowing a kind soul."

"There's always time to make things right. You know that."

"If you were Draco would you give me a chance?" Melantha asked bitterly.

Hermione sighed, unable to answer. Because she truly didn't know what Draco would do. She hardly knew him. He was so complicated and mysterious. On his own, without any sort of persuasion, he'd turned his back on the dark ways. Everything about him could be questioned, but most especially was how he acted towards her and why he would want to be with her. Even after refusing the Dark Mark, he still loathed muggle-borns, thinking his class of purebloods in the high society were far superior. One didn't need to be a genius to see that. So what made her so different? What had caused them to come together in the past?

"He knew!" she gasped, her hand over her open mouth.

"He knew what?" Melantha asked anxiously.

"He knew you were his mother," she said, her words going a mile a minute. "He must have discovered your journal, or found out some other way what had happened. But he only found out recently, and when we lost our memories he lost that knowledge too. That's why he refused the Dark Mark! That's why he trusted you! That's why it wasn't difficult for him to be with me, because he knew! It all makes sense, Melantha!" She was so excited she nearly forgot about their impending crisis. "And he told Dumbledore and…and that's why he won't give us the potions to regain our memories! He didn't want to bombard Draco with all of that at once!"

Melantha sat back, astonished at her revelation. She truly was a genius.

"But something doesn't make sense," she finally said, furrowing her brow.

"What?" Hermione pouted.

"Draco refused the Dark Mark _before_ you say you lost your memories."

"Then that means—"

"He's always been good."

* * *

Not a whole lot happened, but enough to make a full chapter. Heehee! Not much to say, so get with the praise:D 

REVIEW:D

Note: was being a pooh about letting me have the breaks I wanted to for the flashback sequence, so that's why it is the way I have it.


	16. Decisions

Recap:

"Draco refused the Dark Mark _before_ you say you lost your memories."

"Then that means—"

"He's always been good."

* * *

Chapter 16: Decisions

Hermione bent down and kissed Draco softly on the forehead. Though she knew he wouldn't wake under Melantha's spell, she didn't want to take any chances. He didn't need to see the agony in her eyes, the pain that came with the heart-wrenching decision she'd made less than an hour ago.

In a few months time, just before the baby would come, she planned to go into hiding. All the necessaries were in order and only Dumbledore knew where she was going; he would be her secret keeper. She would be completely safe and very well-informed.

And before she went she vowed to right her wrongs with Draco. She was going to give him a chance. This didn't mean she would be hid girlfriend, and it certainly didn't mean that she loved him, because of course she couldn't. It did mean, however, that she really didn't _know_ what she felt for him. And now, circumstances being what they were, she was actually willing to find out if she _could_love him the way she had before their memories went. She told herself repeatedly that she was only doing him a favor, that nothing would come of this. He'd been practically begging her to give him a chance; tomorrow would be his lucky day. The only problem she had left was how to breech the subject; but something told her he would take care of that himself.

"You don't have to go," Melantha said, coming up behind her to place a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but only slightly, then looked over her shoulder. She tried to smile, but succeeded only in looking more sad. "Draco and I will protect the baby. We'll protect you. Dumbledore and others will help, you know they will."

"I won't put other people at risk for me or my mistakes. If there's no baby for Voldemort to find, then no one is in danger."

"Everyone is in danger of Voldemort no matter what. Hermione," she said, grasping her shoulder tighter, "if you leave he'll come after us anyway, to lure you out. And he'll target Draco, because he knows how to find weak spots."

Hermione stiffened noticeably. Melantha smiled, despite the seriousness of their situation. Of course she knew Hermione cared for him—the problem was the long, hard struggle she would inevitably endure to discover that she _did_ love Draco. Melantha could see it in her every movement, she knew how that felt, the love she'd known for Dante.

"He loves me," Hermione said, bowing her head. Her eyes teared up and she choked back the sobs. Even after all he'd done to her, she couldn't stop herself from feeling awful. Did that mean she loved him? _No_, she thought, shaking her head. That was impossible. _But then how can he love _me

"I think so too," Melantha replied, her voice holding the same somber note.

"No, I _know_. He _told_ me."

"How did you do it, Hermione?"

"Do what?"

"Tear down his walls. Find his heart. Make him love you."

"I—er—you know, Dumbledore wouldn't let me go unless he knew Draco would be ok," she said quickly, dodging the question. And Melantha decided to let it be. No matter what she would watch Hermione like a hawk. Nothing would touch her. _Nothing._

* * *

The next day, as the morning sun crept in through the frosted windows, Draco awoke with a start, but found he was in a far better mood than when he'd been knocked out the night before. There was only one thing—or person rather—that could do anything to lighten his mood: Hermione. And she was lying fast asleep in his bed beside him, his aunt—er—mother no where to be found.

His head was swimming—there must have been an anxious fish stuck in there. Melantha was his mother! So then that made Narcissa his aunt?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. No, Hermione was what was important at the moment. As of hearing his thoughts, her eyes fluttered open and she actually smiled over at him. He did a double-take, then smiled back sleepily.

"Morning," she yawned, stretching her limbs, and keeping expertly from touching him even the smallest bit.

"Morning," he replied slowly. "You weren't here when I fell asleep."

"Nope." And she gave another deep yawn. "I figured out the password."

He smiled at her cleverness.

"Are you going to tell me what you're doing here, or should I assume—" His tone was slightly off; he was unsure of himself and Hermione knew this was a very foreign feeling for him.

"I've been turning things over in my head," she sighed, sitting up to lean against the headboard. "I've decided…to give you…a chance. But," she added sternly, pointing her finger in an almost accusatory manner, "if you screw up _once_, that's it. No more chances."

He sprang up and grabbed her face, capturing her lips firmly with his.

"Whoa!" She pulled back, holding him away at arms' length. "I said I'd give you a chance. That means you have to prove yourself."

He frowned slightly, but was completely accepting. Until, that is, it dawned on him.

"This is because of Voldemort, isn't it?"

She nodded slowly. She was hoping he wouldn't figure it out. Or maybe—secretly—she was.

"I _am_ willing," she said honestly. "It has a lot to do with Voldemort, but if I truly wasn't willing then nothing could change my mind."

"Then you don't hate me?"

At this she laughed and people in the other beds stirred, but did not wake. She sighed with relief—she did _not_ want to deal with any other Slytherins. Luckily for them the entire Slytherin House seemed to be unanimously ignoring them. She thought this would have bothered Draco, but he was indifferent—they never really meant anything anyway.

"No, I don't hate you," she finally said.

He smiled, glowing with Draco "charm".

"Does that mean I can take you on a date tonight?" He seemed to be back to his old self again.

She thought carefully for a good five minutes. It would be easy enough to tell Harry and Ron that they were shopping for baby stuff in Hogsmeade, and she could do with a nice, quiet, stress-free night out.

"Yes,"she answered slowly, averting her eyes; she'd grown pink with embarrassment. The last time she remembered being asked out was by Victor Krum, but that was ages ago. "We should pick up some stuff for the baby, too, you know?"

"Of course," she said with a wry smirk. "Wouldn't want Potter or Weasley to think we were actually together, would we?"

Hermione's pink cheeks flamed scarlet.

"I told you before. I won't hurt my friends. Not for anything."

"So what you want doesn't matter?"

"That's not how it is and you know it. Now stop it before I change my mind…I'm hungry," she said suddenly. The delicious smell of Saturday morning breakfast had begun to fill the castle. "And I think Dante is too."

"Dante?" He gave her a bewildered look. "Who the hell is Dante?"

"Our son," she beamed with pride. "I've decided to name him Dante Xavier, after Melantha's husband."

"And when were you planning on telling me?"

She smiled knowingly and crawled out of bed.

"Is there a problem with that name? I think it's rather charming."

"I—" be began, then stopped, the gears in his head turning as he mulled over the odd, yet strangely fitting, name. "No. No problem," he said with no enthusiasm. What _did_ he think about using the name of his now-mother's late husband? It was a nice enough name—but would it work? "But only if I can choose the second middle name."

"Second middle name?" Hermione asked. She whipped her hair up into a messy ponytail.

"Yes. I think a nice long name is fitting." He climbed out of his bed as well, heading for the wardrobe to grab some clean robes.

"Any names in mind?" She was quite curious, though she didn't know why. The subject of baby names was always difficult for them. Though she was agreeable with anything right now because he had said yes to her choice.

"I told you last night," he reminded her, almost angrily. "Right before the fight."

Her face was painted with embarrassment once more. She nearly forgot about that!

"What was it?" she asked timidly.

"Cassio," he said, then turned and headed for the bathroom to take a quick shower before breakfast. He was starving! He wouldn't get any hard thinking done on an empty stomach.

It took Hermione a moment, and then she realized they that name sounded so familiar. She rushed into the bathroom after him, just as he closed to shower door.

"Where did you get that name from?" she asked, not wanting to be presumptuous. It _couldn't _be what she was thinking!

"Being a muggle," he said, poking his already soaking head out, "you should know."

"Shakespeare?" she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "But—"

"What?" he laughed. "Did you think I knew _nothing_ about your world? I happen to big a rather big fan of the man's work. Some say he was a wizard, but no one knows for sure."

She was at a complete loss for words. Draco reading Shakespeare! It was more bizarre than the fact that she was carrying his child!

"Your parents must have named you after Hermione in Winter's Tale," he went on, to prove that he really did know his stuff. She already knew this was where her name came from, but hearing it from his mouth made it seem like new news. "Hermione?"

She snapped her eyes up, her breath caught at how amazing he looked. It made her want to run over, grab him, and do things she never thought she'd want to do with Draco Malfoy. Thankfully for her though, she had great willpower and resisted her hormones.

"I'll meet you out by the lake at 7:00," she said quickly, to cover for her staring. "Try not to let the whole school know where we're going."

He smirked and ducked back into the shower, sighing with relief when he heard the bathroom door close. Another minute and he would have pulled her into the stale with him. He prayed he'd be able to control himself tonight—he could _not_ screw this up.

* * *

"Where have you been?" Harry asked as Hermione squeezed in beside him and across from Ron and Ginny. "Ginny said she went to bed last night and you weren't there."

"Melantha showed up," she said solemnly, as if just remembering this herself. "I—" She looked around the crowded table; everyone seemed to be too absorbed in themselves to pay any attention to the bulging Hermione and her friends. She leaned in, gesturing for them to do the same. And then, in a hushed voice that was barely heard, she explained exactly what had happened, leaving out the fact that she was giving Draco a chance, saying instead that she, Draco, and Melantha had stayed at the Manor the night before to discuss their options.

"So if Melantha is Malfoy's mother," Ron said, "then Narcissa—"

"She's nothing, actually," Hermione said. "Melantha was adopted by the Blacks."

"I can't believe how bad she's had it!" Ginny cried softly, so not to attract attention. "I mean, Lucius killed her husband, raped her, then stole her baby! I never would have thought!"

"I know," Hermione sighed. "It's awful. I can't even begin to comprehend how she got through it all…"

"So," Harry said, raising his voice. "What do you guys want to do tonight?" Silently everyone agreed to put the subject on hold. After all, the Great Hall was no place to discuss such things.

"I think we should go to Hogsmeade," Ginny said, much to Hermione's muted horror. "I haven't been there in ages."

"I agree," Ron said. "I've been wanting to get back to Fred and George's story all year. They owled me a few days ago to say they had some really great new stuff."

"What do you think, 'Mione?" Harry asked. He'd seen the apprehension in her eyes. If he only knew how badly she didn't want them to go.

"I…can't," she said, glancing at the Slytherin table, where Draco ate in silence, everyone around him completely ignoring his existence. How could he have gone from Slytherin King to invisible? Surely his involvement with Hermione wasn't all that bad. It made her want to wrap him in her arms and whisper that everything would be ok. She felt how strange this feeling was, the icy crawl in her skin, but she disregarded it. Things were different now and she had to accept that.

"Why not?" Ginny practically whined. "And don't say you have to study, because—"

"No, it's not that." She leaned in again, but this time no one else did. They'd seen her look over at Draco. "We're going to Hogsmeade too. To shop for Dante."

"Dante?" Ron asked, reacting the same way Draco had. "Who—"

"You finally found a name!" Ginny squealed, forgetting her sourness at Hermione's absence that evening.

"Not just one," she laughed. "Three!"

Again she looked over at Draco, somewhat startled when she found he was staring right back at her, a hint of a smile on his kissable lips. She smiled at him, wondering that if she could go back and do things differently, would she?

"We decided to name him Dante Xavier Cassio Malfoy."

* * *

YAY! A NAME! FINALLY! Heeheehee! Cassio was never on any list before, but I wanted to throw in that bit about Shakespeare, I thought it was cute :) And I love Shakespeare myself, so why not?

REVIEW!

Please excuse the fact that I took FOREVER to update. I recently got a job and I haven't had time to get on the computer. I work on this farm from 7:30 am to 5:00 pm, and by the time I get home I'm beat. But over the past few days I've been taking a notebook with me to write when I can. I hope it was worth the wait and that you'll forgive me for the next time, because I think it'll take just as long.

P.S. Also excuse the extreme shortness of the chapter, but after such a long wait I wanted to get it out as soon as I could:D


	17. An Evening In Hogsmeade

Recap:

Again she looked over at Draco, somewhat startled when she found he was staring right back at her, a hint of a smile on his kissable lips. She smiled at him, wondering that if she could go back and do things differently, would she?

"We decided to name him Dante Xavier Cassio Malfoy."

* * *

Chapter 17: An Evening In Hogsmeade

Not daring to look up from the ground, Hermione kicked absently at a pebble on the lake's shore, a foot wide stretch of land that wasn't covered in pearly white snow. It was mid-November, but the biting winter air made it feel like January. Or perhaps it wasn't the cold at all that was chilling her insides. Perhaps it was the guilt that had been coursing through her for these past few months. So many times before she could write it off, reasoning with herself that she had no control over her situation with Draco. But now, as she stood, wrapped in her winter cloak, a scarf pulled tight up to her nose, she had no more excuses for herself. She wasn't meeting Draco to buy baby things, as she'd told her friends. She and her worst enemy were going on an actual date and the very thought of anyone even suspecting such a thing made her stomach curdle.

_Why do I care so much about what others think?_ she thought, launching the pebble into the frigid lake with an angry kick. But she already knew the answer to that question. She wouldn't hurt her best friends for anything in the whole world, except, of course, her son. But then they would be right by her side, wouldn't they?

But there was something else nagging at her soul, something far more disturbing than her impending date. It was something Draco had said to her this morning: "_So what you want doesn't matter?"_ Was that true? Has she become so completely wrapped up with what everyone—and especially her friends—would think that she hadn't considered that she could be holding back? She didn't want to believe it was true, but the hard, cold feeling in her chest told her differently and she let out a silent gasp.

"Viktor," she whispered, leaning her back against the nearest tree. She and the infamous Quidditch player had been instantly drawn to one another. But no matter how much she liked him and how perfect he seemed for her, whenever he asked her to go steady, she brushed off the subject, saying she didn't have time for a boyfriend with all her studies. _"Besides," _she'd written in one of her letters to him, _"we would hardly see one another with all the traveling you do. I think it's best we remain friends until I've finished school. And then, if you still want to, we can go on all those dates you've asked me on."_ The summer between her fifth and sixth year, his questions turned to almost pleas and she responded to him less and less. By Christmas of sixth year, his letters stopped coming and she'd seen him looking rather cozy with a fellow Bulgarian in the papers. Her heart had wrenched at the sight, but she pretended to be happy for him in front of her friends. What they never knew, however, was that she had ached for him since the moment he asked her to the Yule Ball fourth year.

So there it was. She was allowing herself to be held back because of her friends, most especially Harry, who watched over her like an overbearing brother. And Harry hadn't even openly expressed anything negative towards Viktor, in fact, he rather liked him, unlike Ron who insisted on calling him Vicky.

As Draco approached, glancing this way and that to show Hermione he was being cautious as she'd asked, she was left with one question:

_Isn't my happiness important, too?_

* * *

Draco hair flamed green, standing on end, as a shrill hissing noise was emitted from his open 'O' shaped mouth. Hermione had to clamp both hands over her mouth to keep from attracting any more attention from the other patrons. A few moments later, his hair faded back to white-blond and smoothed down on his head, the hissing sound only a low, ignorable hum that disappeared when he closed his mouth.

"Draco Malfoy being silly," she said, coughing out the last of her laughter. She took a deep swig of Butterbeer and leaned back in the both of the pub. "I never thought I'd see the day."

He went to grab another jewel-shaped sticky hard candy from the bag, but Hermione slapped his hand away and dropped the bag beside her, out of his reach.

"My sides hurt," she explained. And a deep silence fell. She didn't want to admit it, but she was actually having a wonderful date with Draco, despite the fact that they'd nearly run into Harry, Ron, and Ginny in the street. She'd scrambled into a bookshop just in time, having to tug Draco along behind her.

"Hermione?" She looked up from her empty mug, wondering when their food would arrive. "Are you going back with Weasley?"

The question caught her completely off guard. Back with Ron? Was he crazy!

"Why would you think that?" she asked, leaning in so the entire room didn't hear their conversation. She was very aware of the fact that several fifth and sixth years of various houses were gathered throughout the pub, engorged in their own affairs. She was dreading the moment someone noticed them, and prayed that Harry and the others would keep a safe distance.

"The two of you are…in love," he said under his breath, casting his eyes at his untouched Butterbeer. He had obviously wanted to bring this up for sometime, but it seemed he wasn't anywhere near ready to discuss it. Only yesterday afternoon had he confessed his love for her. And no matter how angry he'd spat it at her, it had been true and terrible. She couldn't remember feeling so horrible.

"We're friends." She reached her hand slowly across the table, placing it on his. He flinched and his head snapped up as if she'd wounded him. The look in his eyes half made her think she had. "Only friends. And no, I don't love him, not that way."

"Right," was all he had left so say on the subject, and a second later their food arrived, steaming and delicious in front of them. But they both seemed to have lost their appetites.

* * *

"Did you really believe all that mudblood rubbish?" Hermione asked, nursing a mug of hot chocolate as they sat rather close to one another in front of the fireplace in the bookshop they'd been in earlier that evening. It was nearing ten o'clock and the shop was sweetly quiet. Hardly any customers came in, which didn't seem to bother the owner much, who appeared to prefer snoozing upright in his chair behind the counter.

"Yes," he sighed, and instead of looking away, his eyes fixed on hers, as if he were asking her to search his heart. "But," he continued, his eyes now on the flames, "after my father was arrested, I started to wonder if his crusades were worth it. And then I began to doubt all he'd ever taught me. And when I was offered the Dark Mark before returning from the Christmas holiday sixth year, I refused, having decided that all that hatred wasn't worth a Knut if I had to be miserable for the rest of my life like my parents and their friends…And then, well, you know the rest."

"Can we talk about something a little more serious?"

Draco let out a soft chuckle and took a sip of his chocolate.

"More serious? What could be more serious than my famous hatred of Muggle-borns, of you?"

"Melantha," she said slowly and sat back, gauging his reaction. But he didn't falter and, to her surprise, nodded.

"I was wondering when that would come up." He was hardly affected by it at all.

"How are you handling it?" Instinctively she inched closer, her knee nudging his by accident. He put his arm loosely around her waist and for the first time she didn't have the slightest urge to slap him away. Something profound had changed between them, but in its early stages it was still hard to tell what.

"I haven't given it much thought." This was, of course, an out-and-out lie. But, at this point, he was still holding his face expertly, as if he truly was unaffected by the revelation.

"She's your mother, Draco," she said. Her hand reached out, as if of its own volition, and cupped the side of his face, forcing his eyes on her. She smiled meekly, hoping she looked approachable and he would discuss his feelings with her. This was the longest shot in the history of the world, but she figured what the hell. They'd already come so far over the past two months. Why stop now? "It had to have crossed your mind."

"Perhaps," he shrugged, pulling her hand gently away. "Look, I think I've opened up enough to you for now." There was no doubt that he was referring to their skirmish the day before.

"You're right," she agreed.

"_I am?_" This was not at all what he'd expected her to say. "But—"

"I don't want to push you to talk about something if you're not ready," she said.

"_You don't_?" Again he was absolutely confounded with confusion. "Hermione?" He knocked softly on the top of her head, and she swatted him away, frowning to mask her giggle. "Where did you go?"

"Shut up," she sighed. "I'm not as pushy as people think I am."

He was it with an unexpected pang of guilt. He knew she wasn't referring to yesterday when he'd called her "a snotty, pushy, know-it-all", but the comment hit the right nerve. Maybe he was still the Dark wizard his parents had raised. Maybe he would never change. Maybe—what if this was all a dream? Or his imagination? Or someone had put a spell on him? What if—

"How do you know when you love someone?" he asked, startling her into nearly spilling her hot chocolate. The uncertainty in his voice sent a chill through her that she would have gladly done without.

"I…I don't know," she said into her mug. "I haven't…been in love before." And though she was speaking from her soul, the knot in her stomach told a different story. She ignored it like a pesky bug. "Why do you ask?"

"I occurred to me," he said, his voice steady and formal, "that without being shown kindness, I shouldn't be able to…well…love."

"Then how did you come to the decision that you loved me?" she blurted out without thinking. And the accusatory undertone did not go unnoticed by either.

"I never _decided_!" he snapped back, looking deeply insulted. "Maybe I don't know what I was saying!"

Hermione gasped as if he tried to strike her and slammed her mug onto the floor before her. It was a good thing they were already sitting on the ground otherwise she might have been compelled to shove him down, though she couldn't have said why.

"And I suppose you think it's so funny to play with other people's hearts like that!" Her rage was boiling and she was glad they'd opted to leave their wands behind.

"What are you talking about!" he barked. "You looked me in the eye and told me you didn't love me and never would! I think _I_ have more of a reason to be angry than you!"

She opened her mouth to retort, when he seized her by the shoulders in a half-attempt to calm her.

"Why do I have to be so miserable before I can find happiness?" she whispered, pushing back tears. Draco realized immediately that she was having a mood swing and brought her into his lap, cursing himself for losing his head. It wasn't her fault that she didn't return his feelings. Who could blame her after how wretched he'd been to her for all those years? He was lucky she hadn't spit in his face.

"I do love you," he said with great difficulty, pressing his face into her wavy locks.

"I know," she whispered back, heaving in her attempts to quell her emotions. "I think I…should tell you…tell you why I wanted to give you a chance." Draco remained silent. Nothing could have made him speak at this moment. "I think…that is I could, somehow, maybe…I think I have the…capacity to…love you…possibly."

He would have leaped ten feet in the air with elation if not for the stuttering pausing and clouds of uncertainty. The last thing he wanted to do was get his hopes up only to be crushed. Her talking to him civilly was good enough for now.

"Stranger things have happened," Draco joked, lifting her face in his cupped hands. And, despite her tears, she coughed out a laugh, smiling at his attempts.

"I'm so confused, Draco," she said solemnly. "Two months ago when I woke up in the infirmary I knew, conclusively, that I hated you to the marrow in my bones…What I mean to say is—"

"You need time," he finished for her. She nodded and folded into his arms.

"We should go on more dates," she said, surprising herself. "I liked this."

"Did you now?" he chuckled, a smiling stretching across his features.

"Yes," she said softly, and leaned in, kissing him tenderly on the cheek. "Stranger things have happened."

* * *

Meanwhile, just outside the cozy little bookshop, Ginny had her hands full with trying to keep both her brother and boyfriend from barging in, their nostrils flaring with unbridled rage. Thankfully, Seamus and Neville showed up in time and helped her pealed them back, seating them rather roughly on a nearby bench. This was no easy task, even for all three of them, what with how big Harry and Ron's Quidditch-pumped muscles were.

"You don't seem too surprised about this," Ron sneered at his sister. "Do you know something we don't!"

"Hermione hasn't told me a thing about that!" she snapped back, pointing furiously at the shop. "Last I knew she was worried about the fact that Malfoy confessed he loved her! She wanted nothing to—"

"He said he _loves_ her?" All four boys baulked in unison.

"Well it's obvious enough," Ginny said, rolling her eyes, as if it really were clear as day. "Have you ever seen Malfoy act so strange before? He loves her and he doesn't know how to deal with the new emotion."

"That doesn't explain what we just saw!" Harry yelled, then shrunk back as Ginny raised a clenched fist at him.

"Don't you dare yell at me like that Harry Potter! Don't take your anger out on me!"

"They were awfully cozy," Neville squeaked out, glancing at the bookstore. "Doesn't Hermione hate Malfoy?"

"Clearly it's all a big farce," Ron said, his whole face as red as his hair. He was understandably the most rattled and angry of them all. She appeared to have chosen Draco over him. "What else is she keeping from us? Does she have other kids running around? Other Malfoys? Is she really a pure-blood? Or—"

"Ron!"

All eyes snapped in the direction of the shop, where Hermione stood, fuming mad, with Draco right behind her. But instead of being smug the way he should have been, he looked as angry as her, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Do you remember how many times Viktor asked me out!" she hissed, stamping forward. None of them had ever seen her so angry. The line had been crossed and no one saw any way of stepping back from it. "But every time I brought him up to you or Harry you always gave me these looks, like I wasn't _allowed_ to date who I wanted! Like you _owned _me! Well let me clear something up for you!" By now even Draco's demeanor had slipped and he too was staring at her with wide eyes. "Almost every night I fought not to cry myself to sleep because I wanted to be with him! Because he was the only person who understood me! But I couldn't be with him because the second I mentioned his name you two got hot under the collar! I let him slip away with a fight, without so much as a peep! I have gone on knowing not an inkling of true love and you have the _audacity_ to accuse me of being untrustworthy! Of being anything but _completely faithful_ to a lousy lot like you!" She took a breath long enough to apologize to Ginny, Seamus, Neville, and especially Draco, for her outburst, then stormed off down the road, Draco on her heals.

"How long have you been holding that in?" Draco asked once they were settled in the warmth of the carriage that carried them back to Hogwarts.

"Too long," she sighed, exasperated and exhausted.

"You really liked that Krum guy?" The slight wrinkle in his nose made her laugh.

"Yes," she said, cheering up a bit. "I'm over him now, of course. I just…I only just realized how much they've been holding me back. It can't be just the three of us forever."

"Their ears were so red I thought they'd catch fire," Draco said, coming to sit beside her, rather than across from her where he'd originally been.

"If I had my wand," she laughed, "they would have."

Draco's hand came up to rest on Hermione's bulging belly. And not a second later there was a slight rumbling and his eyes brightened.

"Was that—"

"Yes," she laughed, closing her hand over his. "Dante's saying hello."

"Hermione?" She looked up to see his face an inch from hers. "Can I kiss you?" It was the first time he'd ask her such a thing. She found herself wanting to say yes.

"No, Draco," she said after a long pause. "No you can't."

"Why?" He was undaunted by her negative answer.

"Because as much as I want to love you—" He gave a small, unavoidably gasp. "—I know that I'm not ready."

* * *

Well that didn't take as much time as I thought. So yay! Heehee! But really, the next chapter could take a while. Today I was lucky because I got out of work 5 hours early and had loads of free time. But the next few weeks don't look so promising. This coming Thursday and Friday I'm going out of town with my boyfriend to a concert, then that weekend I have Fourth of July parties to go to, then the next week I'm going to my family's cabin for a few days because I haven't been in so long (and I wouldn't pass it up for anything—it's my favorite place in the whole world), and then there's my job and aerobics and breathing (can't forget that), and, of course, reading. I've been re-reading all the Harry Potter books in lieu of the sixth one and I'm to three already, yay for me!…Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I rather liked it, even if Hermione and Draco aren't together yet.

REVIEW! You silly monkeys! ;)

Oh, and several of you have asked how to pronounced the baby's name. It's like this: Don-tay. It was suggested by someone and when I saw it I decided on it immediately, because he's one of my favorite authors. I was kicking myself for not thinking of it. Heehee!


	18. The Dark Mark

**(This chapter has been modified)**

Recap:

"Why?" He was undaunted by her negative answer.

"Because as much as I want to love you—" He gave a small, unavoidably gasp. "—I know that I'm not ready."

* * *

Chapter 18: The Dark Mark

For the next couple of weeks, they neither saw nor heard from Melantha. Hermione figured—after Ginny assured her that if there was trouble they _would_ have at least heard about it—that it was all well and good; she didn't want to upset Draco. He'd been through enough. His woes were beginning to match Harry's. And that was saying something.

Melantha's birthday was just around the corner so she, Harry, Ron, and Ginny all decided to join Melantha at the Manor. Hermione and the boys had made up, or as much as she allowed them to make up, because she was still quite furious. They'd finally received a letter from Melantha just two days before, requesting their presence.

Draco, not surprisingly, opted to stay at Hogwarts, feigning a heavy workload. Hermione didn't question him. In fact, she was rather relieved to hear he was staying—things between them had taken an awkward turn since their date in Hogsmeade. They hadn't been on one since and neither brought it up.

"I wish I had visited Melantha with you guys," said Ron on the eve before they were leaving for the Manor. Hermione looked over her book and snorted.

"You can't always get what you want, Ronald," she said. Anyone else would have looked upon them and thought she was being playful, but the others knew full well that this was yet another jab to remind them that she still wasn't over what happened. And if they knew Hermione, then it would take much more than bleeding-heart apologies and guilty presents (the book she was reading had been a gift from Ron. Harry had given her a gorgeous silver locket that for now only held her own picture, but would soon hold that of her son, Dante as well).

A sudden and unexpected knock at the portrait turned everyone's head in the common room. Neville, who was closest to the door, crept slowly towards it and pulled it open. He was startled, to say the least.

"H-H-Hermione," he stuttered, pointing at the unseen visitor. "I think it's for you."

"Who is it?" But she already knew. She climbed to her feet, which was becoming less and less of an easy task by day, and walked leisurely towards the entrance. This was not something she'd been looking forward to. "Evening Draco," she said warmly, casting a nasty look at Ron and Harry, then stepped out into the hall to prevent any eavesdroppers from hearing what she was sure would be a private conversation.

"I have to tell you something," he said, his face hidden in the shadows. Hermione rolled her eyes as she pulled out her wand and muttered, "Lumos." But the instant she saw his gaunt, starved-looking appearance, she wished she'd been left in the dark. He had heavy bags under his eyes and his hair, which was always well-groomed, looked as though it had been hacked at with a dull blade.

"Are you feeling alright, Draco?" she asked, genuinely concerned for the wellbeing of the father of her child. She resisted the urge to touch his forehead and feel for a fever.

"Of course not," he spat, which made her jump slightly. It had been quite sometime since she'd heard him use that tone with her. And she hadn't missed it in the least. "Look, there's something I didn't tell you that night in Hogsmeade…" He trailed off, glancing uncomfortably to his right, as if there were something there that held the answer he was looking for.

"What?" she asked firmly. _If he wants to play hard, then I can be just as nasty._

"The _real_ reason I refused the Dark Mark."

* * *

"Do you suppose she _could_ have feelings for him?" Ron gulped, his eyes darting at the back of the portrait that had just closed.

"Of course," said Ginny immediately, confirming Ron's worst fears. This was obviously not what he'd wanted to hear.

"How the hell—"

"Oh hush up," she sighed, shaking her head. "If you'd come off your high horse for one moment you'd see the big picture. Draco is already a permanent part of her life, he's fathering her child, he's _in love_ with her and she doesn't exactly hate him anymore. He's not the bad guy we once knew, or at least not to Hermione. And if Draco happens to be the person she falls in love with then why is that so wrong?"

"Because he's Draco!" Harry snapped, accidentally knocking his rook off the chessboard. It growled angrily up at him, but was ignored in the heat of their argument.

"Why do you boys insist on holding her back from every good thing that she could have!"

"We do not!" protested Harry.

"Name one thing!" shouted Ron.

"VIKTOR KRUM!"

A hallow and immediate silence fell over the group. _His_ name hadn't been mentioned since the fight in Hogsmeade. Ron and Harry were none too pleased to have to brought up again, but they kept their thoughts to themselves. What could they argue? That Ginny was wrong? That Hermione had not dated Krum on her own accord? Not if they wanted to tell the truth—they both knew Hermione had been right. They'd been selfish in trying to keep her all to themselves. The anger they'd received was nothing more than the repercussions of their shallow self-absorption.

A few minutes later Hermione came back into the common room, her eyes downcast. She walked right past her friends, nearly ran into Seamus ("Uh…Sorry…"), and drifted up the girls' dormitory stairs. Ginny made to follow her, but was yanked back into her seat by Ron.

"She obviously doesn't want to discuss it," he said in a low voice, surprising even himself. Normally he'd have been the one jumping to find out what was going on. "And you know you'll be the first to know."

"Fine," Ginny said hotly, snatching up the book Hermione had been reading. She became bored with it five minutes later however, and took to staring into the flames on the fireplace.

* * *

It was early morning, the sun just beginning to warm the air, when Melantha showed up at the castle, her face beaming as she embraced each of them. Draco had come down to greet his aunt, pulling her aside to discuss something that appeared rather urgent to the others. And when it came time to leave, he didn't even glance at Hermione, then disappeared around the corner without a word.

He skirted the corridors back to the Slytherin common room. Hopefully it would still be empty as it had been when he'd left ten minutes before. Unfortunately, however, it was not.

"Haven't seen much of you," came Goyle's thick voice from across the room.

"Open your eyes," Draco spat, making for the stairs. He was cut off by Crabbe's large, meaty arm and had to take a step back so he wasn't right in his face. "Move," he said through his teeth. This was not what he needed right now.

"We've been wondering about you lately, Malfoy," said Crabbe, startling him slightly. Crabbe hardly ever talked, and when he did it was because Draco—and now Goyle—told him to. What exactly had been happening these past few months? He hadn't been paying the House any attention, but he didn't think things had—or could—change _that_ drastically in such a short time. Not that he cared what Crabbe or Goyle or any of the other Slytherins did. But, all the same, he had far too much on his plate to have to deal with them.

"I don't have the time or the patience for this," Draco sneered, shoving Crabbe aside. He was halfway up the stairs, when he was yanked back, his arms braced to his sides by both Crabbe and Goyle. He struggled unceremoniously for several long seconds, until finally he caved and allowed them to drag him to one of the big leather couches by the fire. "How long have you two idiots been planning this?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Goyle demanded, pink flaming in his cheeks for an instant. "We've let your…_abnormalities_ slide for long enough. Our fathers put everything on the line for us, as did your father. And THIS is how you repay him!"

"And just what are you talking about?" Draco asked calmly. He couldn't help himself; he just had to play with them.

"Lord Voldemort!" he hissed, snatching up the front of Draco's robes. Draco tried not to let this affect him, but inside he was steaming—he just ironed these robes! "_Our_ lord," he added, pulling up his sleeve to reveal the skull and serpent.

"Well if you're expecting a song and dance, you're going to be disappointed."

"How _dare_ you refuse the Dark Lord! After all he's been through to help our kind and you—"

"All _he's_ been through!" Draco boomed, jumping so quickly to his feet that Goyle stumbled backwards and nearly toppled over. "He has been through _nothing_ compared to what he will go through if he doesn't keep his M_uggle-born_ hands off my daughter!"

Both Crabbe and Goyle were noticeably taken aback by this. Not his rage, or his tone, or even his stature. But what he'd said.

"Your daughter?" Crabbe's voice was strangely small and soft, his eyes narrowed to tiny specks of black. "But—"

"Yes, my daughter," Draco said confidently, screwing up his face. "And why the bloody hell do you care?"

The two large boys were silent for a long while. And then, slowly, then took a few steps back and surveyed Draco with quiet anger and confusion.

"The information we received was that your filthy mudblood is having a son," Goyle said slowly and between his teeth, his eyes straining not to bulge.

"I suppose your information is _wrong_ then." It took all his self-control to not snigger, even a little, at them.

"You're lying!" Goyle barked, coming forward. "She's having a son! _Your_ son!"

"I—Oh Goyle," he sighed, shaking his head. He was enjoying this _too_ much, but he had to keep his head about him. He had to play cool. "Was it _you_ who told Voldemort that we're having a boy?"

"It…It doesn't matter," he said firmly. "In a few months time we'll all find out." And with that they swept from the room, leaving Draco feeling far less satisfied than he should have been. Because there was still something dark lurking at the back of his mind: _How_ was he going to protect Hermione and Dante?

* * *

"I should probably warn you," Melantha said as they approached the front door. It had not gone unnoticed by the four students that she'd been acting off the whole way there. She gripped the door handle, but did not open the door. "Draco's cousin, Desdemona, is here."

Not one mouth was left closed as they stared fixated at her. Hermione had of course filled them all in on everything.

"Well I can't exactly give her over to Voldemort," Melantha said, pushing open the door. "I fried her brain with that spell," she sighed, shaking her head. "Poor girl doesn't even know she's a witch, much less such a powerfully evil one."

"But she was going to give you to Voldemort!" Hermione balked. "How—"

"She's only eighteen!" Melantha all but gasped. "She's so young and easily swayed. I couldn't…I couldn't let him have her, not…" But she didn't need to continue for them to know what she meant. The girl reminded her of herself; she wanted to give her a chance, the chance she'd been given.

They piled into the house and within ten minutes had their bags unloaded and were settled comfortably around the fireplace in the west den, sipping tea and nibbling idly on biscuits.

"Er," Ron said, clearing his throat. Melantha looked up and frowned.

"Desdemona!" she snapped, and hurried over to the petite yellow-eyed girl, her long brown hair now a bushy frame around her face. She'd managed to find her wand again and was entertaining herself with prodding the fire, turning it into an array of colors that shot off harmless sparks.

"Auntie!" the girl cried, scurrying behind the nearest chair, her wand clutched firmly in her hand. No one needed to ask; it was more than clear that not only had she lost her memory, but her normal human functions as well. She was little more than a child, with a knack for trouble.

"Honestly," Melantha muttered, returning to the den after taking Desdemona to her room and giving her a Sleeping Potion. "I think pity is the only thing keeping me from—"

"Mel!" Harry blurted, almost defensively. "She deserves a chance just like you had." All eyes were suddenly on Harry; he was the last person anyone expected to stick up for an ex-Death Eater.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, and by eleven they began to clear out and head for bed, thoughts of tomorrow's birthday feast full on their minds. Ron stood and stretched his arms over his head, then offered his hand to Hermione.

"I need to talk to Melantha," Hermione said, refusing his hand. He slumped and nodded, knowing that there was no sense in arguing. He was lucky that she was willing to be his friend again, so the last thing he would do was pick a fight with her.

"Night then," he said, and turned and left them alone.

It was a good five minutes before Hermione finally spoke.

"Draco confided in me last night," she said, casting her eyes at the nearly smoldered flames; they had drifted into the south den sometime earlier.

"What did he say?" Melantha asked when it became apparent that she would need some coaxing.

"He…He told me the truth…about why he refused the Dark Mark…"

"You mean he lied to you before?"

"No, not really," she sighed, shrugging her shoulders, as if had he lied it wouldn't have mattered much. "He just failed to leave this rather major fact out." There was a cold, cynical laugh under her voice that sent chills through the older woman.

"Why did he refuse it?" Melantha pressed, hiding her anticipation with expertise.

"He…uh…he said he refused because…because…" But her words died on her lips and she burst into tears, seizing her legs up as far as she could.

"Hermione." Melantha came to her side on the floor, wrapping her motherly arms around her shoulders. "What did he say?"

"He refused because his father offered him over to Voldemort!" she cried, her voice hoarse and raspy, her eyes swollen with emotion. "Lucius made a mistake...He angered him and to correct his mistake he…he offered Draco to him! But Voldemort didn't want to sacrifice Draco, he wanted him to join the Death Eaters…"

For a long while the only sounds heard were Hermione's stunted gasps and sobs. She calmed herself down well enough to sit up and pull away from Melantha, clearly needing her space.

"And what did you say to him?"

At this Hermione threatened to erupt into tears again, but Melantha was prepared for that and pressed two fingers to her lips.

"Please, you must tell me," she said, pain in her eyes. The thought of knowing she could have lost Draco for good without ever knowing him, without him knowing the truth, was more than she could comprehend. What she needed right now was to know what happened next, to focus on something other than her heartache.

"He said the only reason he told me was…because he thought…the only thing keeping me from…loving him and…being with him was…was trust. He said if he told me then I would…_know_ him completely, that there would be no secrets…"

"Hermione. What did you say to Draco?"

"I told him…I told him—" But at that instant her heart leapt, as did she, her back colliding with the nearest wall.

"She told me that secrets didn't matter to her, that I could have a thousand secrets for all she cared," came Draco's angry—but far more hurt—voice from the fireplace where his head had just appeared. "Nothing I could ever do will be good enough for her, _mother_," he sneered. "Maybe I made a big mistake. Maybe I should have accepted the Dark Mark and become Voldemort's puppet. Maybe—"

"Draco, don't!" Hermione cried, reaching for his intangible head. "Please, just—"

But as quickly as he's appeared, he vanished, leaving the room cold and empty despite the fire and Melantha at her side.

"He didn't give me time to explain last night!" The tears were coming so big and fast now that she couldn't see a thing. "I told him his secrets didn't matter, but I didn't mean what he thought! He got so angry that he stormed off!"

"What did you mean then?" It was hard to keep her voice steady with the rush of emotions.

"I don't _care_ what made him refuse Voldemort! All that matters is that he did! And I don't care if he has secrets and skeletons in his closet because…because…" She took a deep, shaky breath. "Because I think I love him…"

* * *

AHHHHHH! FINALLY she sees what we all saw! Sheesh Hermione! And here everyone thought she was a genius :P Hope the wait wasn't too hard on you. But I have good news—I have a two week or so break from work so I'll have plenty of time to update. Weee!

REVIEW!


	19. Acceptance

Recap:

"What did you mean then?" It was hard to keep her voice steady with the rush of emotions.

"I don't _care_ what made him refuse Voldemort! All that matters is that he did! And I don't care if he has secrets and skeletons in his closet because…because…" She took a deep, shaky breath. "Because I think I love him…"

* * *

Chapter 19: Acceptance

It was hard to determine the mood of the house the following morning. Melantha rushed in to wake Ron, Harry, and Ginny, her eyes bright and a smile etched on her face. Hermione, who didn't appear until well after breakfast, was sullen and distant, her mood rubbing off on Melantha whenever they made eye contact, though the older woman would always quickly recover and return to the festive cheer.

Halfway through dinner Hermione jumped from the table, covering her face in her hands, and hurried from the dining room without explanation. Harry and the others turned to Melantha for answers, but all she could say was, "Give her space," and the subject was closed.

At around ten o'clock they began to turn in (minus Hermione who was already holed up in her room), due to the fact that they were leaving early the next day. Harry and Ginny were the first to go, wishing Melantha a final Happy Birthday before leaving arm-in-arm for bed. Melantha retired a short while after, leaving Ron alone in the den, his head swimming with thoughts. He wanted so badly to just go upstairs and talk with Hermione, to let her know that he was on her side, that she could be with Malfoy if that's what she really wanted. Because, over the past few weeks, he'd come to realize just how right her words had been in Hogsmeade. What did it matter, in the long run, that she loved Draco Malfoy? Sure he was awful to him and Harry and most other students at Hogwarts, but if he was good to Hermione and their son then what business was it of his and Harry's?

He smiled softly to himself, his eyes fixed on the still-raging fire. He sure had matured recently; if Hermione would hear him out then she would definitely agree, thinking first that he was ill, of course.

And there was another reason he wanted to talk to Hermione in private. There was something he'd been meaning to tell her, something that he hadn't even told Harry yet. He was waiting for that moment when she would allow this private conversation. He prayed it would happen soon, however, because he didn't know how much longer he could keep it a secret. He'd learned his lesson the hard way that secrets were definitely not the way to go.

"Ron."

He jumped so high that his butt actually left the floor.

"Hermione?" he said, standing up, concern painted on his face. "What are you doing up? I thought you were asleep." But there was no mistaking that he was glad she'd come down. Now was the chance he'd been waiting for.

"I was," she said, glancing at the fire. "But when the others went up to bed I heard them moving around in the halls. And then I realized that I was hungry."

"So what brings you to this part of the house?"

"I saw the fire," she said with a shrug, then took his hand. "Come on. Let's get a midnight snack."

After refusing the house elves aid (which caused a small uproar, from both the elves and Ron), Hermione fixed her and Ron towering sandwiches. They munched on them in near-silence, saying nothing that constituted as conversation. Until, nearly done with his delicious meal, Ron spoke:

"I need to tell you something, 'Mione."

She looked up and nodded him on, her mouth full.

"I…Last week I asked out Lavender," he said quickly, then proceeded to gulp the rest of his milk, giving himself an instant stomach ache. Though he wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't there before.

To his surprise, she smiled.

"I was wondering when I'd hear about that."

"You mean you knew?"

"Of course I knew," she laughed, patting his hand that was still clutching the empty glass. "Lavender could hardly keep from beaming all week. I knew it was a matter of time before you'd tell me."

"I…" But he had nothing more to say on the matter. "Hermione, there's something else I want to discuss with you."

At this her face went pale and she retracted her hand. He caught it at the last second, however, enveloping it in both of his.

"If it's about my behavior—"

"No. You're obviously not ready to talk about that. I just wanted to let you know something…I…wish you the best with Draco—but if he _ever_ mistreats you he'll be a sorry—"

"Oh Ron!" she cried, flinging herself at him. Her tears instantly soaked his shoulder.

"Hermione? What is it?"

"I screwed up! I-I…Draco told me something, a secret," she said, her voice hurried and nearly unrecognizable. "And then I told him that I didn't care about his secret, and before I could say any more he came to the conclusion that I…that I was trying to say that—"

"You didn't love him?"

She nodded into the crook of his neck, her heartbroken sobs churning his stomach. No matter how determined he was to see Hermione happy—no matter who she was with—it still caused him great discomfort to openly acknowledge that it was Draco who made her feel such things.

"I love him, Ron," she whimpered, her hands clutching him so tightly that it was almost painful. "I don't know how or why, only that I do…I tried for so long to deny it…And when I tried to tell him he stormed off!"

"It's not over," Ron said thickly, his tongue seeming to have grown two sizes. "There's still time—"

"I am three months away from having this baby!" she snapped, drawing back as though he was attempting to strike her. "What if he won't talk to me until then, Ron!"

"But—"

"Voldemort is after us!" she gasped, exhausted. Ron's heart leapt, and not only at the name. With some careful coaxing, after the initial shock wore off, he was able to get the gist of the story from Hermione before she passed out, drained, in his arms. He carried her upstairs to her room, not remembering a time he'd had so much on his plate.

* * *

It was inevitable that Ron would tell Harry and Ginny what he'd learned the night before. After all, they would want to protect her just as much as he did. He pulled them aside just after breakfast, while Hermione and Melantha were deep in a solemn conversation near the carriage. They immediately wanted to speak with her themselves, of course, but, with an iron will, he forced them to hear him out. Hermione was in a right state and had been ever since she learned she was pregnant—and more seriously when she learned the father. When and if they approached her on the subject they would have to be careful not to upset her even further. Who knew what she'd do when finally pushed over the edge? She was already nearing the perilous drop day by day as it was.

"There's something else," Ron said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear. Hermione and Melantha looked no where near ready to near their secret conversation. "Last night she told me…she loves him." He hung his head as if this were all his fault, then gave a half-hearted gesture that said he was out of words on that account. Surely his brain had nearly burned out the night before with thought.

"And I thought he loved her," Harry said, not masking his disgust. Ron might have been alright with it, but Malfoy was still Malfoy. The slimy git hadn't shown Harry anywhere near a reason to trust him, especially with Hermione.

"They had a row."

Harry scoffed at this, indicating that it was expected. Ron, however, frowned at his best friend.

"What?"

"She was right, you know." At this time it was he who had an amount of anger behind his would-be calm voice.

"Right about what?"

Ginny had thankfully chosen to stay out of the conversation. Could she have seen the tension that had been building all this time? Ron thought that surely that was the reason for her silence and lack of aid to both her brother and boyfriend.

"Us," he sighed, looking over his shoulder again. Now it appeared that the girls' conversation had taken an ill turn and would end quite a bit sooner than he'd hoped. "We held her back with Krum. We protect her like she's a child. No wonder she needed up with Malfoy in the first place!" His ears were growing red and Harry felt an unwelcome pinch in his gut. "We've been pushing her to this for seven years! And now there's no undoing it!"

"I'm not the only one to blame!" Harry spat heatedly, his green eyes blazing.

"I said _we_," Ron seethed. "But I seem to be the only one willing to try to make up for it! You're still stewing it over while You-Know-Who is out there with it in his head that he needs to kill Melantha, Malfoy, and their son!"

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry cried in rage before he could stop himself. They all knew that the reason for this outburst had a lot more to do with their row than they could see at the surface. Harry was angry and had been for so many years. He needed something to grasp onto, some part of the argument to say he'd won. And Voldemort had always been that thing. Though now, as he stood glaring daggers at his best friend, he knew those days were over. He was being childish and clingy and it needed to stop. "How…How do we fix things?"

"We accept Malfoy," Ron said simply, though there was a distinct quiver behind his voice. He didn't like it any better than Harry did. "And we protect them."

"How? I thought she was going into hiding. I thought Dumbledore—"

"As of now, yes. But don't you think Dumbledore is the first person V-Voldemort would expect being their secret-keeper?"

"Well yeah—"

"Yours and Malfoy's hatred of one another is as legendary as Voldemort himself!" The glint in his eye told them that he thought what'd he'd said should have a great impact. They only stared at him blankly, Ginny as silent as before. "We need to persuade Hermione and Malfoy to have _you_ be their secret-keeper!"

A great blanket of understanding fell over them, but it was stitched with uncertainty. And before Ron could elaborate, Hermione and Melantha began to walk in their direction.

* * *

Draco stared down at his half-packed trunk and realized that what he was doing was useless. Why did he need extra clothes where he was going? Why anything at all? If he knew Voldemort—and he was sure he did—then he wouldn't need to worry about any such trivial things.

He knew what he was doing was not what she would want. What either of them would want. But it was the right thing, the noble thing. Anything else would be cowardly, and, though he was in Slytherin, he was no coward. When the time came to do what was right, he chose the right path, not the easy one. Hadn't that been how he staved being a Death Eater before? Surely a weaker wizard would have held out their arm in obedience and accepted the Dark Mark.

He went to his wardrobe and pulled out the only thing, other than his wand, that he would need. His traveling cloak. He didn't know how far he would have to go, but surely he would be found before long. There would be punishments, of course, and a long road to trust. But he would endure it. He had to. For them.

With one last glance at the room he'd called home for the past seven years, Draco slipped on his cloak and made for the door.

It was only a matter of time now. And then, because of his sacrifice, they would be safe.

* * *

_She had tears in her eyes, her big chocolate eyes. He wanted to hold her, to console her, but that was never part of the deal. In fact, him just being there right then was never supposed to be. He was breaking his own rules in seeking her out, high up in the Astronomy Tower. But now that he was there he was glad he'd come. No matter how much he'd have to punish himself for it later._

_"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice steady as she tried to regain the upper hand._

_He chuckled softly and advanced towards her. She backed up, her hand out._

_"Go away," she said, her voice now close to a whimper. "I don't want to see you again. Ever."_

_"Why are you crying?" It was certainly more of a demand than anything else. What was it about her vulnerability that made his blood boil? Sure he'd refused his parents and the Dark Lord, but that didn't mean he wasn't himself. Evil was imbedded into his very soul. The sight of one crying, scared girl would not change that. Not Draco Malfoy._

_"None of your business," she managed to push out, her hand clutching the windowsill for support. Would he stop her if she jumped?_

_"I don't remember doing anything to you." And that was the truth. He'd kept very clear of her for the past few days, obliging her request. Well, her threat. She was a powerful witch, after all. But he could only stay away for so long. "Who has taken my place in torturing you?"_

_"I said go away," she seethed. And now she was angry. Fear and sadness were washed away and she was struggling with this new emotion, so sure that the sadness was supposed to stay._

_"Are you going to off yourself?" Shouldn't it have bothered him that such a statement didn't bother him? Shouldn't he care some ounce for her after all that had happened? Well, to be fair, he didn't wish to see her cry. And her absence would undoubtedly cause something of a ripple in his life._

_"No," she said in her cold little voice, trying to intimidate him. "But I haven't put it completely out of mind to off you."_

_Again he laughed, and this time he took a seat on the windowsill she was leaning against. She jumped back as fast as if he'd called her a mudblood, her back rigid and her glare set. She wasn't going to back down and surrender in her pain; not this time. He was very much disappointed. His first reaction upon seeing her crying in the tower was instant lust._

_"What do you want from me?" she asked in all seriousness, ignoring his sniggering only feet away._

_"Another good shag," he said honestly. What point was there in lying to her? She knew him for what he was, what he'd always been. She had known there would be nothing further from the beginning. She had known— "You weren't crying over _me_ were you?" It had only just occurred to him that he could have something to do with this._

_"Not really."_

_"Granger, I thought we—"_

_"Don't flatter yourself," she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and unintentionally perking her breasts. He smirked, undeterred by her anger. "I could care less about you or what happened between us you stupid ferret." His face reddened at her nickname for him. And what he loathed more than its use was that it actually worked the way she always planned it to._

_"Then what does 'not really' mean?"_

_"It means that yes, it has something _to do_ with you, but no, I'm not crying _over_ you."_

_"Then what—"_

_"I'm pregnant, Malfoy."_

Draco shuddered awake, his eyes wide and his heart pounding. He sat up, nearly colliding with the low hanging branch before him. It took a moment for him to realize where he was. Or, more importantly, why he was there. He was lying on his cloak, deep in some forest far from Hogwarts. But his location and his intentions were now the furthest things from his mind.

How could he have ever been so cold to her? Yes, the occasion jab or insult, a little teasing. But to be out and out cruel? How had he ever come to her love?

He knew now that their coming together in the first place had been nothing more than carnal need. She sought comfort, he sought release. And the consequences were now full on top of them. But then they'd actually been together, as lovers. They'd loved each other and some cruel twist of fate had separated.

With an angry grunt, he climbed to his feet, affixed his cloak, then continued on the path he'd chosen, vowing once and for all to get her out of his head.

* * *

Ahhh! Where are you going Draco! How could you leave Hermione like this! Get your head out of your ass!...Don't worry people, it's my love of angst acting up. I'll sort this all out :)

REVIEW!

**P.S. Thank you to who pointed out to me that Thanksgiving is not celebrated in England. A big duh! I'm such a moron sometimes, I swear I don't know how I manage everyday tasks…Anyway, I fixed the problem in the previous chapter, making their visit instead about Melantha's birthday.**


	20. I Remember You

Recap:

He knew now that their coming together in the first place had been nothing more than carnal need. She sought comfort, he sought release. And the consequences were now full on top of them. But then they'd actually been together, as lovers. They'd loved each other and some cruel twist of fate had separated.

With an angry grunt, he climbed to his feet, affixed his cloak, then continued on the path he'd chosen, vowing once and for all to get her out of his head.

* * *

Chapter 20: I Remember You 

Hermione collapsed on her bed, her heart heavy and her eyes swollen. She was full to the point of being sick, having endured a horrible dinner at which Harry, Ron, and Ginny all forced her to eat. Because, for the past week, she hadn't eaten a thing and only slept when her body forced her to. She awoke at strange hours and had gruesome nightmares; she would then proceed to wander around the common room, sometimes finding her way out into the corridors.

The entire school was in an uproar about the disappearance of Draco Malfoy. Even the Slytherins who had turned on him were on edge. They didn't know what his being gone meant and were terrified at the thought of being blamed.

Hermione's friends did all that they could to calm her. And Melantha, trusting motherly Melantha, was now staying at the castle. That is, when she wasn't out looking for her son. But there was no sign of Draco anywhere and even she was beginning to lose hope. Dumbledore, however, was as optimistic as ever that Draco would turn up and be perfectly fine. He was so confident that he promised Hermione that he would return.

"How can you promise me such a thing!" she'd shouted, turning over the chair she had been sitting in. Never could she remember being so angry, and at a teacher no less. Her situation had certainly put a new spin on her life. "How can you let me get my hopes up when you know what Voldemort does to those who betray him! How…" But the words had flittered off at that point and she'd buckled in a heap of tears and sobs on his office floor. Moments later Harry arrived and carried her back to the dormitory.

* * *

_"Ron! Leave me alone!" Hermione screamed, batting her fists at him. Her wand was stuffed uselessly in her pocket, unable to be reached in the position he had her in. His strong hands pinned her to the wall, her blue eyes fierce with need. She had never known Ron to act this way and was more terrified than she would let on._

_"You have to listen to me first," Ron said, his voice low and calm, though with a hint of irritation. "I love you, not Lavender."_

_"Then snogging with her behind my back was your way of showing it?" she sneered. What a horrible sight she had walked in on after being in the library the week before._

_"She would never give me the time of day before," he reasoned, or so he thought he was._

_"That doesn't mean you should go after her when she does! You were with me, Ron!"_

_"I know, but—"_

_"No, I don't care what your reason was! You betrayed me and that's all that there is to it! I can't hear another word or I'd be betraying myself!"_

_She managed to snake her arm free, only to find herself prostrated on the floor, Ron's rock hard body on top of her, struggling to grab at her wrists again._

_"Hermione, please! Just let me talk!"_

_"NO!"_

_"Hermione!"_

_"Get off of her," came a gruff voice from the shadows. Ron immediately froze, unable to follow the harsh command. Within seconds, however, he found himself flown against the very same wall he'd shoved Hermione against. He drew his wand, ready to fight whoever was there, only to stop short when he found the most unlikely person standing before him, brandishing his wand._

_"Malfoy!" he gasped, then rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing right._

_Hermione climbed to her feet, ignoring Draco's presence completely. Her wand was in her hand and she was more than ready to use it._

_"How dare you do that to me!" she hissed, jabbing her wand into his chest. "You say you love me and then you do this! On top of everything else! I thought you were a good person, Ron…I've never been so disappointed…"_

_"Hermione, please—" But the second he took a step forward, Draco was there, his wand now stuck in Ron's chest as well._

_"Make one more move and I'll hex you, you dirty weasel."_

_And to Ron's complete horror Hermione laughed and gave a stiff nod. Without another word he bowed his head in submission and walked away. Hermione distinctly heard two sets of footsteps after a moment, but forgot about them when she remembered who was standing with her in the dark corridor._

_"Why did you—"_

_"If it was between a mudblood like you and that blood traitor, then you should win. At least with you you didn't have a choice to be born what you are."_

_His assessment of the situation would have made her punch him any other time, but tonight, after being saved by Draco Malfoy, she really didn't know how to react, other than with gratitude._

_"I should thank you then," she said after a long moment. "I couldn't reach my wand and I didn't know what he would do in his state."_

_"He's a moron," he said without aid, without emotion. He turned to walk away, and she didn't try to stop him. She stood there, staring after him, her mind racing. When he stopped short of turning the corner she was very confused. "What are you still standing around for?"_

_"I can't go back to the common room," she said matter-of-factly, pulling up her old confidence when dealing with any Slytherin, and especially him._

_To her complete surprise he walked back over to her and took her arm._

_"What—"_

_"You're coming with me. We still have to discuss your method of repayment for my help back there."_

_An hour later, after Draco had successfully snuck her into Slytherin House, he and Hermione were roaring with laughter, their stomachs heavy with Firewhiskey: Hermione's payment to Draco. He had sealed off the green velvet curtains around his bed and put a Silencing Charm on them._

_"Stop! Stop!" Hermione cried, holding the stitch in her ribs. "I can't laugh anymore!"_

_Draco sighed and took another sip of his drink. It no longer singed his throat, but gave him an over all warm feeling. Though, now that the liquor was starting to affect his brain, he wasn't entirely sure the warmth could be attributed to the whiskey._

_"I never thought I'd be drunk on Draco Malfoy's bed," she said after a moment, laying back, her head propped up with her arms._

_"I never thought I'd offer a mudblood such a treat either."_

_"You know," she said, turning on her side to face him, "I really hate when you say that." The look in her eyes and the slight slur of her words told his drunken self that under normal circumstances these words would never be spoken, let alone thought. "I mean, I stand up straight and take it, but at night, sometimes, I cry because I don't understand how someone can hate me so much for something I can't help."_

_"Well, if you're going to tell secrets," he said, moving a little closer to her. In the far reaches of his mind he knew he'd hate himself for this in the morning. But, right now, so close to such a beautiful girl, and his body full of toxins, he didn't care what he said. "I have a rather weighty confession."_

_Hermione's ears perked and she too moved closer. Their knees touched, but neither moved to correct this._

_"I never hated you, or any mudblood for that matter." He paused to gauge her reaction. Respectfully, she remained calm and collected, her mind beginning to sober up at his words. "I was raised a certain way and I did as my father told me, as Voldemort told him…But, a few nights ago, I was taken to the Dark Lord on his orders, on my father's request…" His voice trailed off. He didn't know it would be this hard to recap the memory. How was he so alone in a world with so many people? So unloved? So used?_

_Hermione moved herself so close to him that their foreheads touched, and draped her arm over his waist._

_"My father's faults have angered Voldemort, and he tried to right them by offering me to him." His voice was now shaky and almost hoarse. "My mother begged and cried for my life…In the end Voldemort finally agreed to let me live, but at a price."_

_Hermione let out a little noise, showing her concern. She had always thought there was more to Draco than she could see at the surface._

_"I had to become a Death Eater and serve him forever. I have to kill mudbloods and blood traitors, everyone who stood in the way…"_

_"And are you…are you—"_

_Draco solemnly lifted his robe sleeve to reveal nothing but a very toned arm._

_"You and Weasley were supposed to be my first assignment, because you're so close to Potter…That's why I saved you tonight…I'm on your side now."_

_"And your mother?" It was all she could think to say. The story of her arrest was fresh in the papers that morning. "How did she end up in Azkaban with your father?"_

_"She went mad after I refused him…She cried and cursed and said I was betraying her after all she'd done to protect me…I turned her in to the Ministry the next day."_

_"You're in danger then." And, startling her, she felt a pang of concern in her gut._

_"Every minute," he sighed, seemingly unaffected by this fact. "But, then again, I always have been. It sort of comes with having Death Eater parents."_

_"You're drunk," she said. "You don't know what you're saying."_

_"I may be drunk, but I know perfectly well what I'm saying. I could die any day and there is only one thing I want to do before I'm gone."_

_Hermione's breath quickened as his face moved towards hers._

_"Draco," she whispered._

_"Yes?"_

_"Don't do this."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because you'll make me regret it in the morning."_

_"What do you mean by that?" he laughed softly, brushing his lips against hers. He didn't think anyone could be as beautiful as she was. "That I'll snub you and treat you like I've always treated you?"_

_She nodded, biting her lip so he couldn't get passed them._

_"Well of course I will." And there was a definitely seriousness to his tone. "Do you have any idea how much danger you'd be in if Voldemort found out about this? You wouldn't be just some offhanded assignment for a rookie Death Eater. You would be the assignment. And I won't let him have you."_

_"But you hate me," she protested. "We hate each other."_

_"I don't hate you," he purred, pressing his lips to hers. "And I've been to bed with my fair share of girls who hated me."_

_"I don't hate you either," she said defensively._

_"Then kiss me," he urged, pulling her as close as she possibly could be._

_"Malfoy," she stressed, pushing him back. "We're both drunk. This is a mistake, this whole thing." She sat up, only to be pulled back down and under his massively muscular frame. "Don't make me hate myself. Please…"_

_But then his lips came crashing down on hers, and he didn't care that she struggled at first, that she whimpered in protest. Because he wanted her and nothing would stop him from having her. It was the ultimate slap in the face for his parents that he would shack up with a mudblood. They would pay dearly for treating him the way they had._

_"Let me have you now and I will leave you alone forever," he whispered huskily into her ear as his fingers worked the buttons of her shirt._

_"But—"_

_"How would Weasley feel if he knew where you were right now?"_

_And from that point on she had no trouble whatsoever bending to Draco's will. Not until morning, that is._

* * *

Hermione bolted upright, clutched the front of her robes as if she could stop her rapidly beating heart. That dream, it had been so real, so personal. It must have been a memory! Like the dreams Draco had been having. Which meant she was regaining her memory. 

She knew now what she must do, and no one could stand in her way. For a full week she had listened to others, obeyed their commands to stay on the grounds and leave the search and rescue up to the adults. Well, she thought angrily, they aren't any closer to finding him and it's been a whole week. She couldn't stand waiting anymore and wondering where he could be, let alone the condition and mind set he was in. And, most horribly, it was _her_ fault that he'd fled and was heading for Voldemort, because there was no doubt in her mind that that's where he had gone. With nothing left to lose—or so he thought—going to Voldemort seemed to be his only option. He would become the Death Eater he was supposed to become and then, with luck, he would forget about his crusade against Melantha and Dante.

"But he won't forget," she whispered, sitting up so suddenly that her head spun. She and Melantha and the baby were still in danger. Draco was walking head on into certain death for no reason at all!

With hardly a thought other than Draco and their son in mind, Hermione snatched up her cloak and wand and slipped from the room. Ron and Harry were in a deep conversation by the far window, and Ginny was nowhere in sight. She wondered for a moment how she was getting out of the common room so easily with them right there. She found out, not a moment later, when the portrait door closed and she was face to face with Ginny, her wand pointing at her chest.

"Ginny," Hermione gasped, clutching the front of her cloak. But she was not at all surprised. She needed a moment to collect her bearings and make a decision. "What are you—"

"We've been taking turns every night guarding the door, Hermione," Ginny said, her voice very much sympathetic. "We knew you would try to sneak out to find him, but you can't. You're putting both yourself and your son in danger and we can't let you do it."

"And what about Draco?" Hermione was becoming increasingly angry.

"Melantha is—"

"Melantha won't find him and Dumbledore is so damn—"

"Hermione! Listen to yourself!"

"No, Ginny. You listen to me. I love Draco and nothing in this world will keep me from him. I can't let him die without knowing how I feel. I can't let him walk towards his death thinking that I don't love him, and knowing that it's my fault that he's there. Voldemort won't just accept him as a Death Eater and forget about being snubbed. He'll kill Draco and then he'll come after me and Melantha. If it were Harry, would you let me or the others stand in your way?"

There was a long silence. Hermione prayed that her words made an impact.

"But your baby," Ginny said, struggling with the words. She knew Hermione was right, but she just couldn't abandon her post and allow her best friend to go without protection. It was suicide!

"If you don't let me go I'll curse you," Hermione said with conviction. "I'm sorry, Gin, but you know I can't not go. I can't let him die."

"Then let me go with you," she finally caved, glancing at the slumbering portrait of the Fat Lady. "I can help you. I've fought the Death Eaters just like you and the boys."

Hermione was about to say no when she realized that if Ginny was willing to give up her post then Hermione should be too, for the sake of friendship. She nodded and offered Ginny her arm, her eyes beginning to mist again. Never in her life did she think she'd have so many people around her that loved her and that she could love back so completely.

"What about Harry and Ron?"

Hermione bit her lip, knowing that the boys would massacre them when they found out.

"I don't want them to come," Ginny said, answering her own question. "But—"

"But when they see we're gone they'll come after us," Hermione sighed. "And risk even more."

So, reluctantly, the two girls climbed back into the Gryffindor common room.

Within seconds most of the house was up as well.

* * *

Well, that's all for now. I have been rather busy with work and a wedding and such, so I haven't really had time to type. **But now you have another chapter, and I think it's safe to assume that I've changed my mind and am going to use flashbacks instead of a prequel, and the only reason is because of the sixth book. I thought I would have enough time to finish this fic and start the prequel before it came out but, sadly, I did not. And with the shattering events that happened, I find that I can't bring myself to write another fic that ignores the points of their sixth year. Any other fics that I write with be from seventh year and on.**

With that said, I hope everyone enjoyed this little glimpse into the past. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up very soon. Oh, and by the way, this fic is nearly it's end. Two or three more chapters and then I will sadly have to put it to rest. -Sigh-

REVIEW!

P.S. How do you like how I handled Draco and Hermione coming together for the first time? Draco seemingly all sensitive, but with his ulterior motives. And the drunkenness. Heeheehee!


	21. Elle Est Belle

Recap:

"But when they see we're gone they'll come after us," Hermione sighed. "And risk even more."

So, reluctantly, the two girls climbed back into the Gryffindor common room.

Within seconds most of the house was up as well.

* * *

Chapter 21: Elle Est Belle 

Draco's eyes flashed open and he peered into the weighty darkness. All around him were the sounds of the forest, the gentle hum of wild animals both slumbering and out to hunt. He didn't know where he was, but that was nothing new, for he hadn't known where he was for three days now.

It was not the fact that he'd had the dream that startled him, but the strange occurrences in it. He had viewed portions of a memory that was not his. He was absolutely certain of this because in all the others dream-memories he was in his own body, playing out the memory as if it were actually happening. But, in this dream, he was disembodied, floating on the outskirts, a fly on the wall.

And, his mind racing, he could only reach one conclusion.

_It was Hermione's dream._

But how? How could he know hidden memories he had never seen? Even if Hermione had told him what was said before he arrived, that still didn't explain it, not really. It didn't feel fabricated, but like he was viewing her memory on a screen.

But still, that was not what gave him that dull, sinking feeling in his gut. It was the bitterness with which his dream-self had bore. He was sneaky, conniving, and, above all, insensitive to the woman he loved, who his dream-self _would_ love. He had lured her into his bed for his own pleasure and gains; to seek revenge against his father for offering him up to the Death Eaters. If he had ever used such information he did not know, though, as he pushed his mind, some pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. For one, his parents had died in Azkaban prison sometime over the summer. He had visited them just before they died, Hermione had told him that. Perhaps he revealed his secret to them and the shock sent them to their early graves.

"No," he muttered aloud, shaking his head. A few droplets of dew splashed off into the lightening night. It was nearly dawn, which meant that he should get going. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Of course it doesn't."

Draco whirled around, feeling his heart jump into his throat. In a matter of seconds he was on his feet, wand poised and ready.

"H-H…Hermione?" he gasped, his wand still aimed. Slowly he lowered it, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Hermione?" he said again, this time taking a step forward.

"Yes, Draco, it's me," she said, her voice sweet and silky, just the way he remembered it. She stepped forward as well, the light of the fast approaching sun silhouetting her body, magnifying the beautiful curve of her protruding belly. "I've been looking all over for you. Where have you been?"

He was about to embrace her, his mind and soul lost in a whirling cloud of emotion, when something hit him. Why was she acting so calm? And why was she alone? Surely her friends and his mother would have kept careful watch on her to ensure that she didn't try to find him on her own. She was pregnant for Merlin's sake!

"Why did you come after me if you don't love me?" he asked stiffly. Hermione's smile flickered for a moment, then brightened.

"I was lost and scared, Draco. I didn't want to believe I could fall in love with you because I still feared you and your family."

"What changed your mind?"

"Nothing," she said simply, with a shrug. She gave a little wrinkle of her nose, in that cute and irresistible way she did to make him melt. "I always loved you, Draco. Only now I know it."

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?" She was now so close to him that he could smell the shampoo in her hair, see the flecks of different shades of brown in her eyes. But, no matter how happy and beautiful she looked, he could see through the mask. And he cracked a smile.

"How did you find out about my mother?"

"I told you," she half laughed, fluttering her long lashes.

"No," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You didn't, Bella."

* * *

"Hermione!" Harry panted, clutching a stitch in his side. They had been running for so long no one could remember what normal breathing felt like. And they were beginning to lag. 

"Don't stop now!" she called over her shoulder, her oxygen supply running low as well. But she wouldn't stop. Not now. Not for something so silly as loss of breath.

"You don't even know where you're going," Ginny managed, pulling her body up level with Hermione, who continued to sprint, fueled with the deepest need known to human kind.

"Everyone in the Order knows where Voldemort is hiding," she said, not slowing in the least. "Melantha is in the Order. When Draco refused the Death Eaters, who's to say that Dumbledore didn't allow him into the Order as well? As a spy in Slytherin House, maybe. And Melantha could give him necessary information about Slytherin children's parents."

"What are you getting at, Hermione?" Ron was now up with them as well, Harry right on his tail.

"Draco must know where Voldemort is hiding too! Which means that he's heading this way."

"But that's hundreds of miles away! It'll take months to get there!"

"Not if we have Thestrals," she said matter-of-factly, pulling her wand into ready position. Having mastered non-verbal spells, she uttered not a word, and a long thin knife appeared out of nowhere a few inches above her outstretched hand.

It took a few moments for everyone to grasp the idea, and by the time they realized what she meant to do, it was already too late. The molasses-thick blood dripped precariously onto the thin-strewn floor of the forest, a dark and desolate place where neither sun nor snow reached. The wound was deep enough to draw the necessary amount of blood, though shallow enough to keep from causing any serious damage.

"They're here," Harry announced, pointing to a cluster of bushes that shuddered slightly as if an impossible wind had just blown through them. A second later Hermione flinched and clutched her arm.

"It licked me," she said, giving a strange sort of half smile. "Harry, could you?"

One by one Harry helped his friends onto the backs of four Thestrals, leaving the others with only a small pool of Hermione's blood to fight over. Harry gave simple and concise instructions for where to go.

All that was left to do was wait.

* * *

"Bella?" Hermione asked, taking a small step back. 

"Bella," Draco repeated. "As in Bellatrix, my would-be aunt."

"What does she have to do with anything, Draco?"

"The foul woman is so desperate for Voldemort's approval that she would stoop so low as to try and seduce her own nephew, assuming to be Hermione, of course, after having drunken Polyjuice Potion."

"How dare you speak of the Dark Lord in such a way! How dare you use his name, you foul blood traitor!"

Bellatrix reached for her wand, but she was too slow for Draco's movements and wound up shoved unceremoniously against the nearest tree. Her wand dropped to the ground, though that was the least of her worries with her nephew's iron-clad grip pressing at her airways

"Get. Off. Of. Me," she hissed with what little oxygen she had left, clawing at his hands and kicking at his shins.

"You know," he said, digging his fingers in ever harder, "you were always my least favorite relative. It's a good thing we're not actually related."

"Ishosaso," Bellatrix wheezed out incoherently.

"Excuse me? I didn't catch that." He loosened his grip slightly in order to hear her words. But, instead of reiterating, she was able to pull him into her trap. He was almost instantly prostrated on the forest floor, his arms bound behind his back so fast he didn't realize he was tied until he tried to move.

"I said," she laughed, her voice a howl of glee, "that 'I should say so', my disgraceful ex-nephew."

"They'll find me," Draco said into the dirt. Bellatrix pressed his face deeper into the ground, her illustrious cackle echoing through the trees.

"Who will? Your _friends_?"

Draco's entire form stiffened. Who did he mean? Hermione and his mother, Melantha? If they hadn't found him by now then surely they wouldn't find him before Bellatrix did him in. Or, more horribly, if she brought him before Lord Voldemort himself. Surely Draco's wrongs constituted the sort of viciously painful death Voldemort would give him.

"Face it, blood traitor," she spat, giving him a hard kick in the side of the head before she gave a flick of her wand to levitate his stiff, immovable body. "You are as alone as you always were. No one is coming. And, even if they were, we would find them first."

Draco snapped his eyes shut, his heart unable to stand the sight of Hermione's angelic face anymore. A face that was twisted into a horrid smiling grimace.

How ironic, he thought, as his body floated in front of the disguised Bellatrix Lestrange. He had been captured, bound, and beaten for all intensive purposes by the woman he loved. Hermione's glistened silken locks framed Hermione's wonderfully angular face, that held her shockingly gorgeous brown eyes. She walked steadily behind him, her wand out, delivering him to his death.

* * *

_"You can't be pregnant!" Draco hissed, nearly falling out the window he was perched at. "You're lying!" His stuck his face in hers, willing her to contest him, to be stupid enough to repeat what she'd just said._

_"I was supposed to get my period a week and a half ago," she said, straightening herself up. "You're the only person I've ever slept with. You do the math."_

_"Just because you were a virgin when I had you doesn't mean I'm the only person you've been with!" he countered, his rage reaching immeasurable levels._

_"Believe what you want," she said hotly. "I only told you to satisfy myself with your overreaction." And there was a hint of a giggle behind her voice. "Do you think I would actually want you to be a part of _my_ child's life? Sorry ferret, but our one night mistake ended two weeks ago."_

_"I can't let you have this baby," he said in all seriousness, her brows narrowed. A sudden new and terrifying emotion was gripping him, making it almost difficult to breathe. It was like fear, only worse, and it intensified when his eyes met hers. "It will ruin us both," he added, questioning himself immediately for the use of the word 'us'._

_"What do you care what happens to me?"_

_"I don't." But he could barely make it convincing to himself, let a lone her._

_After a long pause, in which neither moved nor spoke, Hermione's eyes softened and she took a bold step forward._

_"I want so badly to hate you the way I should," she said, bowing her head in shame. "You torture me and my friends. You used me. And now you're ordering me to get rid of my child so that you can sit high on your pure-blood throne…And still I can't hate you. Because…because I know, somewhere—buried so deep it may never be found—that there is some amount of good in you, no matter how small."_

_"Why are you wasting these words on me?" He tried to look into her eyes, to prove that it wasn't her that was filling him with that foreign emotion. But, the harder he tried, the more adamant his eyes were to disobey and stare fixated at the night sky. "I don't need them, nor do I want them."_

_"Because no one in your life has ever shown you an ounce of kindness, deserved or not. You're more alone now than you ever were, and still you push people away…I pity you, Draco, but not in a bad way. And I think I could feel something more than hate and pity towards you if you'd only—"_

_"Save it, Granger," he barked, pushing off the ledge to stand towering before her. She didn't flinch; not in the least._

_"It's probably my hormones or maternal instincts making me say these things," she went on, ignoring the pulsing vein in his forehead. "But it doesn't matter. You won't take in a word."_

_"Exactly," he said with a huff. "Now, about this baby business."_

_She nodded._

_"It's not only your baby."_

_"It is if you refuse to acknowledge it as both yours and mine."_

_"You said—"_

_"I say a lot of things," she laughed, causing him to shudder involuntarily. "Look, like it or not, I'm pregnant and you _are_ the father. Nothing will ever change that, or the events that led to this. If you want to be involved, then be involved, be a father. If not, then say so now and I'll raise the baby by myself. But, if you choose to stay out of the baby's life now, then there is no way in hell I am willing to let you into his or her life later on. Is that clear?"_

_Without meaning to, he nodded._

_"When you say involved—"_

_"I mean completely. As in everyone knows you are the father."_

_What little color Draco had left in his cheeks disappeared entirely at this statement._

_"But…that's impossible!" he snapped, as if trying to convince her of something she already knew. "You know—" He stopped short. Of course she knew. That's why she was offering him this, because she knew he couldn't accept it without damning himself in the process. _She's more ruthless than I am!

_He advanced on her so quickly and so suddenly that she didn't have even a fraction of a second to react. He pressed her against the nearest stone wall of the Astronomy Tower, forcing his mouth on hers, his arms snaked around her waist._

_"Malfoy, what—"_

_"You should have been in Slytherin," he breathed, his old self returning full force. "You know I can't be known as the father, Granger, but you will _not_ deny me my right to see my own child. I won't let you have that hold on me."_

_"I have enough of a hold to be satisfied with," she shot back, easing into her position. "I deserve as much."_

_"You deserve what I give you."_

_"I deserve what I give you in return."_

_He opened his mouth to protest, only to find that Hermione's lips were on his, suckling at them with a fierce and dangerous vigor._

_"Granger—"_

_"Drunk or not, there was something valuable that night two weeks ago," she said, her voice husky with want. "I've been holding onto that, turning it over in my head."_

_Draco was surprised that these words didn't affect him in the way they should have. Instead, he found himself nodding slowly, feeling her words as his own._

_"I've come to a conclusion just now."_

_"And that is?"_

_"I'm attracted to you, Malfoy. Something about you, that small measure of good that I know is there."_

_"I won't let you get close to me," he stated blatantly, as if reading a fact from a book._

_"I didn't ask for that. Only—"_

_His lips curled into a smirk, before plunging onto hers._

_"One more thing."_

_"What?"_

_"Call me Draco."_

_"I will if—"_

_"Shut up, Granger. You're ruining the moment."_

* * *

Doo doo doo doo! Ahhh! Ok, so that didn't get us much further, but it's getting there. I didn't want to jump into anything, so I'm taking this slowly. Hopefully not too slowly, because the last thing I want to do is tick off my readers. Anyway, hope that was to your liking. 

REVIEW!


	22. Deceit

Recap:

_"Call me Draco."_

_"I will if—"_

_"Shut up, Granger. You're ruining the moment."_

* * *

Chapter 22: Deceit

The thestrals touched down some three or more hours later; Hermione has lost count. Her fingers, as well as the rest of her body, were numb. She clutched her woolen cloak tight around herself, doing little to protect herself from the ravaging winter wind.

"I c-can't f-feel my f-f-fingers," Ginny stuttered, pressing herself against Harry, who she hoped possessed more warmth than her.

"We have to be careful now, you guys," Harry said, his voice strong and determined. Whether he meant to or not, he was taking control of the situation. Hermione knew that he would, of course. What kind of friend would he be if he allowed her to fight Voldemort? Not one that she would want, that was for sure. "Don't talk unless you have to. And—Ron!" he whispered harshly, glaring back at him. "Don't step on my cloak!"

And so the four friends walked quickly, but quietly through the densely crowded forest. It was far different from that of the Forbidden Forest, for its trees were thicker around the middle by a considerable amount, and much taller, casting them back into the night after having traveled so long in the blinding morning sun.

Just when the silence was becoming so unbearable that Hermione wanted to shout to break it, there was a dull sound in the distance ahead. Ron took in a sharp breath and Ginny straightened herself, unhinging her arm from Harry's, her wand ready. All their wands were ready, in fact, and aimed in the direction of the noise.

"Everyone," Harry demanded in the lowest whisper he could muster while still being heard, "get behind me and stay alert."

Hermione did as she was instructed, the harsh knot in her stomach tightening with unbearable pressure. But she wasn't afraid, so much as guilty. She was betraying her son in order to right the wrong she committed on his father. Along with her best and most trusted friends, she was wandering almost blindly through an unknown forest, and not an adult knew of their whereabouts. They had told no one and left in such a hurry that none of them even thought to leave a note. Melantha must have been tearing apart Dumbledore's office about now, shrieking at him to go and find them.

When had life become so complicated? When had her decisions become wrapped in the weighty fabric of life or death?

"Everybody down!" Harry yelled, shoving the nearest person to him to the ground. They all tumbled after him. All except for Hermione, who stood stock still, stricken to her very core with something so much more terrible than fear.

"Ahh, Draco's would-be bride," came a slow, cold voice in the darkness. A moment later Hermione saw the glowing tip of a wand and took an unsteady step forward. She was through with petty fear and all that it came with!

"I know your voice, Bellatrix," Hermione said firmly, unwavering. The time for weakness was over. As a mother-to-be she had a duty to her son and his father. She would not cower and she was not lose. "Let me see you."

"If you must," the older woman sighed. She brought her wand to the side of her face. Hermione now saw that she stood only feet away, her lax black hair matted and dull. She was a hollow shell of a person, possessing so much determination that one would swear she was a mother in need as well. "Satisfied, mudblood?"

"Let me see Draco," she ordered. A flicker of something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention for an instant. Harry and the others were behind and beside her, challenging this relentless woman.

"You are in no position to make demands, child."

"It's four to one," Ginny snapped.

"Even if there weren't a dozen Death Eaters surrounding us at this very moment," Bellatrix laughed, "what would I need to fear four troublesome youths who haven't even graduated yet?"

"That's enough Bella."

Hermione's heart leapt. That sounded just like—

"Draco?" she whispered, squinting her eyes into the pitch darkness. But she didn't need to strain for long. Not a moment later he emerged into Bellatrix's wand light, his cool gray eyes calm and hard, the way she always remembered them. "Draco, what—"

"I'll take it from here," he said, ignoring Hermione. Bellatrix laughed sourly and retreated to the circle of Death Eaters that were beginning to close in on them. "I knew you would come for me, Granger. And with luck you brought your nosey little friends."

"Draco, what are you saying?"

"I thought you were the genius," he snorted, crossing his arms haughtily over his chest. "This was a lure. I ran, you followed. How else was I to get you out here without having you fall for me?"

"That's a lie!" she hissed at once. "You're not Draco! You…You're someone in disguise!"

"Oh Granger," he sighed, looking very much amused with himself. "It's me. You know it is. You have that sinking feeling in your gut, that burning twinge between the eyes."

Her heart raced and her eyes darted around the now dimly lit clearing, taking in the sallow faces of the Death Eaters, the minions of the Dark Lord.

And, heartbreakingly, all she could think was: _I love him, I still love him. Even now, when he's giving me to Voldemort._

In the next instant she went crashing to the ground, heaving the contents of her stomach in a sloppy pool. What was wrong with her! How could she still love him! How could she still think that there was a chance in redeeming him?

"I must be completely mad," she laughed, spitting the last dribble of sick out of her mouth. She stood and faced Draco with renewed conviction. And then, causing her friends to gasp, she held out her arms, wrists up. "Take me," she said. "I'm giving up."

"Hermione!" Ron shrieked, but was immediately silenced by the non-verbal spell she cast at him. She looked up at the others, glaring icy daggers.

"I know that Voldemort wants my son, his blood, the blood of a traitor. If you let my friends go then I will come with you without a fight."

A hissing cackle rose around her, ending abruptly when Draco grasped Hermione's wrists and nodded to them. Three stone-faced Death Eaters came forward and grabbed Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Hermione wondered why it was so easy, but, at the look on their faces, saw that they had been stunned silently. She prayed that his end of the bargain would be held up and allowed him to lead her through the black forest, just the two of them, the only light issuing from the end of his wand.

"Is Melantha here as well?"

Draco jumped slightly. Hermione has been so eerily silent for so long that it seemed she'd grown mute. He hadn't expected her to speak ever again. And especially not to him, and in such a smooth, calm voice.

"No," he said after a long while.

"What is the point of capturing me now then? But wait…" Her brow knit in thought and for a moment there was pure silence again. "The spell requires three enemies of Voldemort."

"I know that," he spat at her, rolling his eyes.

"But you—"

"The Dark Lord no longer wishes to use my pitiful mother, and obviously cannot use myself. But there are other spells, and you and the child are perfect."

"You know," she said, continuing on in her calm, normal voice. "I always thought that if someone loved you it would be enough to change you. I mean really loved you, poured their entire soul out for you just to see you smile."

His bottom lip twitched and he turned his head up, pulling hard on the ropes that bound her wrists. She would have winced as the course material cut her skin, if she hadn't been expecting this reaction.

"That's how I love you," she said, her tone somehow softer.

"Don't you mean loved?"

"No."

He stopped short, loosening his grip on the restraints.

"We're halfway there," he said, seeming to ignore her words.

Before she could ask why he'd said that, he began to untie the ropes.

"There's a lake not far from here, to the west. That's where they will have taken your friends." He refused to meet her eyes, and added, "To drown them."

"Why are you telling me this?" Her blood was pulsing in her veins. She didn't know what to do, what to feel, how to breathe.

"Go." He gave her a little shove. "Get them and Apparate to Hogsmeade. When you get there, go to the castle. You'll be safe with my mother and Dumbledore. And, whatever you do," he said sternly, taking her hands, "do _not_ come looking for me. I made a horrible mistake. I had a dream that made me see clearly. I was going to come back, but—"

"Bellatrix found you," Hermione finished solemnly, casting her eyes at the ground.

"I knew you would come for me after that. I could feel your pain, but it was too late!" He glared furiously at nothing and clenched his hands. She ignored the pinching and smiled softly. "I knew the only way for you to escape was if I could get you alone. I was taken to Voldemort and I threw myself in front of him, telling him that I had the perfect plan to get you in his midst…If I hadn't been able to close my mind he would have seen my…my love for you."

"Draco, come with me!" she begged, grabbing onto him with a renewed vigor. "I love you. Please, don't sacrifice yourself for no reason!"

"Hermione," he sighed, shaking his head. "If I don't go back to him and offer myself, then he'll come after us all immediately."

"I won't let you do it," she said firmly, and, without warning, flicked out her wand and stunned him cold. He fell limply into her arms and she levitated him through the trees to where she knew her friends had overpowered the Death Eaters. "I knew love could change you," she whispered, kissing his stiff, immoveable forehead. "But you're really going to pay for making me doubt you back there."

She grinned ear to ear, her heart lighter than she could ever remember it being.

* * *

"You are all in a lot of danger," Professor Dumbledore said, peering at them over his half moon spectacles, a hint of anger in his voice. But, more than anything, he was relieved that they'd returned to the castle virtually unmarred. "Lord Voldemort will come after you. If not immediately, then in time. You leave me no choice but to—"

"Professor, if I could say something?" Hermione piped in, biting her lip. This was all her fault and she needed to right it now before it went on any further.

"Very well, Miss Granger. Go ahead."

"I know this is all my fault, but I also know that when Voldemort comes for us, I will do all in my power to protect everyone that I love. And I know that everyone here is willing to do the same. So, you see, there is no reason we should be sent away—"

"Is that what you thought I would do?" And for the first time in weeks Dumbledore cracked a smile and broke into a small fit of laughter.

"Professor?"

"I was going to order you all to enjoy these peaceful times while they lasted. Because, quite soon, we will all be deep in the trappings of war."

"I never meant—"

"This is no one's fault," he said sternly, looking only at her now. "This war was coming with or without the events of recent times. You are no more on his radar than the rest of us, I'm afraid. No one is safe. So drink deep, eat heartily, and laugh until it hurts, because times are dark and light will become scarce."

Several moments later them trooped out of Dumbledore's office, Melantha staying behind to have some privates words. They all bore the physical marks of that night: Harry with a great bruise forming on his jaw; Ginny with a sprained elbow; Ron with many minor cuts and scrapes; Hermione with the gash for the thestrals and raw wrists; and Draco, he looked the worst, though his skin remained flawless. Draco's hurt was inside, but it shone through with unyielding force, making him appear somehow older and weaker, his eyes downcast and his lips thin, unable to produce even a slight smirk.

When they reached the corridor that would split them into Gryffindor and Slytherin, they paused, completely silent. Not that Draco had been talking, however.

"Hey guys—" Hermione began, but Harry, Ron, and Ginny all nodded at once, and, without a word, they walked away. "Draco, say something."

"You could have died," he whispered immediately, and, to her utter surprise, she saw that his cheeks shimmered with moisture in the dim light of the torches on the walls.

"I'm fine now," she said, moving towards him. He backed away immediately.

"You deserve someone so much better, Hermione. Someone who hasn't hurt you. Someone who isn't mark and will bring you harm. Someone—"

"Who are you to decide what is best for me?" Hermione snapped, grabbing at his collar. Her mouth was on his so quickly that he hadn't time to react. When he finally regained his senses, he pushed her back gently and straightened his face.

"This can't work," he said, his pain choking his voice. "I…I'm sorry, but I won't put you in danger. I can't…"

"Damn it Draco!" she yelled, slapping him hard across the face. "Look at me! Look me in the eye, knowing how much I love you, and tell me, without stuttering, that you can't be with me. Do it and I will walk away right now and never bother you again."

For a long time he could neither speak nor look at her. And then, causing her to jump, he let out a bitter, shuddering laugh.

"You're laughing!"

"It's only fitting that I should end up with someone as stubborn, determined, and ruthless as I am."

Hermione was about to snap at him, when his words sunk in and she heaved a much needed sigh of relief.

"I love you, Draco," she said, pulling him roughly to her, her great belly pressed against him. "And you know what?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm glad it was you who I fell for. Anyone else would have been too easy," she laughed. "But with you—" She kissed him lovingly on the mouth. "—I know it's real. And no one, not even Voldemort himself, can take that away from me."

"I don't remember you talking this much," Draco said as they reached the Slytherin common room, blessedly free of all the house occupants.

"Draco Malfoy!"

"Hermione Granger!" he shot back mockingly.

"Hermione Granger my ass."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He took her hand and led her quickly into his room. She waited until the curtains were sealed and silenced before she spoke.

"I'm pregnant with your child, Draco. We're going to be living together. We love each other. And, most importantly, we have little time to enjoy together peacefully."

"Are you saying—"

"I'm not saying anything," she said, crossing her arms and turning her nose up at him, hiding her smile expertly. "I believe in traditions."

Draco's jaw hung loose on its hinges, his eyes bulging with realization.

"You are the most amazing witch I have ever met," he purred, grinning into her neck. "And you are going to make the most unbelievable wife, too."

"Good," she said, kissing his forehead. "You're not as slow as you let on."

"Hey now!"

"Hey now shut up." And with a surge of passion she shoved him down on the soft mattress, knowing that with tomorrow would come a million worries, but that right now, alone and in his arms, she could never be happier.

* * *

Ahhh! Could that be the end?...No, of course not. Heehee! What about all the loose ends I still have to tie up? Like the baby, and the wedding, and how the hell they lost their memories in the first place. Not to mention the impending doom of Voldemort. Damn, I sure do put my characters through hell, don't I? Heehee:P

REVIEW!

**P.S. This chapter might have some changes done. I've been on a writing kick and in a few days I might decide that I want to change things. But as of now I like it. We'll see what you all think.**


	23. Epilogue

Recap:

"Hey now!"

"Hey now shut up." And with a surge of passion she shoved him down on the soft mattress, knowing that with tomorrow would come a million worries, but that right now, alone and in his arms, she could never be happier.

* * *

Chapter 23: Epilogue

Another term had ended and the graduates of Hogwarts sighed with relief. Their school work was over and they could begin their lives as adults, carving out their own place in the wizarding world. Little was heard of the activities of Lord Voldemort, but no one thought—even for a moment—that it would last much longer. The calm before the storm was always a sign and, therefore, all were on alert and ready to take a stand for the good of everyone.

Hermione was especially watchful, her ear always to the Order, though she wasn't much of a help to them at the moment. She spent most of her time at home, Malfoy Manor, with her beautiful and healthy new son and her fiancé, Draco. In a few months' time she would begin her training as an Auror and be of use, for sitting around the house and waiting for danger did not suit her well at all. She took to spending more and more time reading to Dante in the library than anything else. Draco began to worry and always had a house elf tail her.

"I want a small, quiet wedding," Hermione said out of the blue one night after dinner, when Dante was fast asleep in the nursery.

Draco brought his mug of tea away from his lips and sighed.

"No you don't," he said, not looking at her. She coughed on her own tea and looked up.

"Excuse—"

"You're only saying that because you know that I won't have a single person on my side. No best man. Nothing. But," he said, turning to her suddenly, his tone cold and demanding, "I _know_ how much you want a big, traditional wedding. And you can have that. It doesn't bother me."

She frowned and set her tea on the side table. No matter what—even when he was doing the sweetest of things—Draco would still always possess his father's hardened features, cold determination, and commanding air. When he told her he loved her it was an ice pick through the heart. His words were like stone. But it was something that she knew she would have to live with when she fell in love with him, because not even she could change him completely. He had still grown up with harsh, unloving parents, who thrust upon him the stigma of purebloods and hate of muggle-borns. He was of course better now, his soul softened with his love. And he was ever protective and watchful of her and their son, sometimes staying up well into the night in his vigilance. She knew he only wanted what was best for her, but it was time now to do what was best for him.

"Well it bothers me," she bit. His hard gray eyes seemed to dim a shade at her voice. "I think a small, humble wedding will do us good. We don't need to go spending all your family gold just because we can."

Draco let out a defeated huff. He loathed being pitied the way she was pitying him now, though he knew she wasn't doing it in spite of him. She truly thought she was doing the right thing, and he would let her believe that. After all, he did want the wedding to be small and short.

"Fine," he muttered. "But you have to promise me something."

She smiled that breath-taking smile at him, and he couldn't help but give her a small smile back. She would follow him to the ends of the earth, brave hell, carry burdens—and all for the sake of his happiness. For the sake of her love to him, love that he did not believe he deserved, but accepted because he knew how upset she would be if she knew he thought that.

"When you and your mother go shopping for a wedding gown, the one you want you have to buy, no matter the price."

"Does this mean you won't be there with me?" Behind her fake frown she was beaming. Of course she didn't want him there, and he would obey her muggle tradition, because there was nothing he could truly deny her in the end.

Except—His face suddenly tensed and, with a quick kiss on her forehead, he excused himself. He held his breath until he was out of her hearing range, then hurried down the corridors, up the stairs, and down another long hall into his study. But, instead of collapsing in his richly colored red leather chair, he skirted the heavy desk and burst onto the balcony, the crisp night air greeting him harshly. He breathed deeply and leaned against the ledge, his soul burning for release.

_But how can I tell her?_ he thought sadly, bowing his head in shame, a thing no Slytherin or Malfoy would ever admit to doing. But he had come a long way since his days as the ruler of Slytherin House. Hermione had somehow been able to humble him, even more so than the threat of death his father put before him. There was something so indescribable about her that had him clinging to her as though she were his life-force. He knew, without a doubt, that nothing in the world, not even death, could separate them and what they shared. But still his conscience nagged at him, sometimes making him physically ill when he was around her. He feared her disappointment above all.

For he knew the greatest secret of their coming together. He knew how they lost their memories. And, most importantly, he knew who was to blame. And it was these facts that kept him up at night, mulling over his decision to tell or not. Would she be happy in knowing the truth? Or was it the mystery that held them together? Could a few simple words shatter all that he'd come to love?

He groaned deeply and peered off the ledge into the gardens below. It reminded him of the dream-memory when Hermione had first told him she was pregnant. It reminded him most of all of the hatred with which they regarded one another then. And it was this that caused him to make his final decision.

He would tell her and let the chips fall where they may, for nothing in the world was more precious than her. He could not bear to keep such a heavy secret from her. She had a right just as much as he to know the truth. So, on the eve of their marriage, he would unleash the secret that had been revealed to him in his dreams over two months ago.

Until then, he would have to endure in agony.

* * *

The week after Hermione began her Auror training the wedding was to take place. The list of guests was short and intimate, and, the more she thought about it, the more Hermione felt that this would work out. What did she need a huge wedding with trained doves and waiters pouring champagne for everyone? What she needed were the people she loved most, at her side and approving of the man she loved.

When she had sent out the invitations her hands had trembled while addressing Harry and Ron. She knew they would be happy for her no matter what she chose, but the thought of them not accepting Draco chipped at her heart. Of course they wouldn't hug each other and become instant brothers once they were wed, but civil conversation was a reasonable aim. Already she had endured innumerable arguments from both Draco and her two best friends when the subject was breeched. They all insisted that such a thing would never be possible, no matter what side Draco was now on.

"Hermione?"

She looked up from the book perched on her lap to find Draco standing over her, Dante sitting comfortably on his hip, chewing happily on a rubber lion toy.

"Potter's owl just swooped in and nearly gave Dante a heart attack."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his overreaction and took the sealed letter he was holding out to her. Silently she thanked him for not opening it first. It read:

_Dear Hermione,_

_I have been wondering when I would get your wedding invitation since Ginny told me you were getting married. And I know we have discussed this and beaten the subject to death—you know what I mean._

_I have to tell you that, honestly, I thought of not coming. The idea of watching you be given away to someone (the next two words were written rather jaggedly, and she sensed the apprehension he must have felt at that moment) like Draco makes me want to do something ridiculous to prevent it. But the second these thoughts come to mind, I see your face and that smile you smile, and I know he is the only person you want. And though I don't believe he deserves you, I know that you would never do this unless you truly loved him. I give you my blessing, even if you never asked for it, and I wish you both the best and a lifetime of happiness together._

_Love Always,_

_Harry_

_P.S. Ron is coming too, but I doubt Pig will get there before the wedding. You might want to put a cover on your cake._

Hermione's eyes watered and, for a moment, Draco feared she would burst into tears. But, with commanding strength, she sucked in her breath and smiled, handing him back the letter to read if he wanted. He decided against it and set it on the table beside her.

"Is he coming?"

"Of course."

"Wonderful," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. Then he turned on his heals and he and Dante left the room to go back to whatever they had been doing. When she was sure they were gone she grabbed the letter, reread it hurriedly, then clutched it to her chest, her cheeks stained with tears before she felt her eyes well up.

Before the days seemed to fly by in her anxiety as she awaited the replies for who would attend. Now it seemed that the wedding couldn't come any sooner. She longed to see her friends, to laugh and talk with them; just to have them around again. With the baby and Draco and her preparation to begin Auror training she had little time to visit or receive guests. She wrote them when she could, but usually she had nothing new to say and felt her letters were useless in relaying just how lonely she was without them. Not that she was lonely really, for she had Draco and their son, and Melantha still lived there and was home for time to time when the Order didn't demand her presence. But Harry and Ron (and Ginny as of late) had been a huge part of her life since she was eleven. She hadn't really ever thought of her life without them and, now that they were gone, she pined for the old days.

Soon enough, however, the eve of their big day finally arrived. The rehearsal was over in less than an hour, but, instead of Draco going off and leaving Hermione with Ginny (her maid of honor), the couple had decided he should stay at home. All wedding guests were housed at the Manor, fitting comfortably into their rooms and giving the bride- and groom-to-be their space before tomorrow's ceremony.

It was well past eleven in the evening when people started turning in. One by one they started drifting off to bed, wishing the couple well as they passed them cozied up on the couch with little Dante. Draco was predictably distant, giving the guests stiff nods or forced partial smiles. Hermione knew there was something more wrong with him than wedding nerves, for he was not the type to cower at such times. He had stood tall and proud when she was pregnant and had not hesitate to propose marriage.

_No_, she thought, watching him out of the corner of her eye. _It's something else._

By the time they were alone it was almost midnight and Dante was fast asleep in his mother's arms. They brought him to the nursery and thanked Merlin when he didn't wake. In silence they got ready for bed, moving around each other with hardly a glance.

Draco sensed Hermione's trepidation and discomfort and, just as she was slipping into bed, grabbed her arm and held her up. She eyed him carefully for a moment, then they both sat on the edge of the bed.

"I have something to tell you, Hermione," he said slowly, forcing himself to meet her searching gaze. Even in the blazing warmth of summer he felt cold inside and shook off the shiver that ran through him.

"I figured as much," she said, smiling to lighten the mood. He remained glib and frown-painted, wearing his usual "Draco mask".

"I have to tell you this before you marry me," he went on, as if she hadn't said a word. "I've been keeping something from you for nearly three months." Her brow twitched so slightly that he wouldn't have noticed had he not been looking for signs of unease. "I…Remember after Dante was born, how I stopped having the memory-dreams?"

"You started having them again?" she asked, following his train of thought.

He nodded stiffly.

"And?"

"I know, Hermione."

At this she gave a completely unprecedented reaction. Her brows knit together and she bit her lip, as if she were the one that was about to be reprimanded.

"Herm—"

"I know, too, Draco," she sighed, lowering her eyes slightly. "I've known for a while now."

"I—but—how—how do you know!" He wasn't yelling at her, though he could hardly see how she'd see that.

"The morning after that night you ran away I…I woke up and my memory was back. I don't know how it happened, but I suddenly knew everything."

"But…if you knew—" He took a deep breath. "Don't you care?"

"Of course I care," she said matter-of-factly.

"And you still want to marry me?"

"Well why the hell wouldn't I?" she laughed, kissing his cheek softly. "I love you, that's all that matters. Not some silly past we can't change."

"But—"

"Look," she sighed, understanding the fact that he wasn't quite grasping this yet. "I've accepted you, flaws and all. Even if I never got my memory back, or you never told me, I would still have memories of all the other times you hurt me. And they are tenfold compared to this. So shut up and let's enjoy our last night before we're bound together eternally."

"You never cease to amaze me, 'Mione," he said as they curled close together under the sheets.

"Well when I stop amazing you it'll be a sad day indeed," she laughed, pressing herself as close to him as she could get.

He chuckled quietly as if enjoying a private joke.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, really. What?" She frowned when he shook his head. "Draco!"

"What you said."

"What about it?"

"It's funny." He smirked wide and she let out a pitiful little girlish grunt.

"Why is it funny?"

"Because," he sighed, caving. "You will _always_ be amazing."

* * *

_Hermione scowled deeply as she was half dragged across the dew-filled lawn, her heavy cloak too much in the warm September night air. After what seemed like an eternity, they stopped beside the lake, the full moon shining in its glassy surface. She thought briefly of Lupin and smiled, until, however, she was pulled back into the present situation._

_"Are you going to tell me what this is about? Or should I assume it's the same old bullshit and walk away right now?" she snapped, not caring in the least how snobbish or harsh she sounded. She had had it with the games. Enough was enough._

_"I broke it off with Lavender, you know," Ron said, staring at his shoes._

_"That's nice. Try looking at me when you say that."_

_Immediately he lifted his head and looked right at her. Silently she wished he hadn't obeyed, for she saw true remorse in his eyes and it cut her deep. She missed her old friend Ron._

_"I haven't even talked to her since what happened. I made a horrible mistake, Hermione." His voice was becoming increasingly faster as he spoke. "You have to forgive me. I never—"_

_"I don't have to do anything," she spat._

_"I know," he sighed. "But I never meant to hurt you. I don't know what I was thinking. I was a stupid boy with a stupid crush. I didn't realize true love when I saw it until it was too late." He finished his speech with a deep sigh, then waited to see her reaction. "I love you," he added hoarsely._

_"I know you're sorry," she said finally. "And I know you never meant to hurt me. I love you too, Ron, just…not that way." His frown deepened at these words. "I accept your apology and I'm ready to be friends with you again, but you're going to have to stop this childishness. We are never going to be a couple again, and for far more reasons than the fact that I don't love you the way you love me."_

_All he could do was raise a questioning eyebrow._

_"What you saw with me and Draco over the summer was _not_ a fling, Ron." His ears reddened immediately. "I think I love him and…and I'm pregnant."_

_A deafening silence filled the air for a moment before Ron erupted in fury._

_"YOU'RE WHAT!" he barked, advancing on her as though he meant to harm her. But he didn't get to say more than that, for at that moment a dark figure came running across the lawn and tackled him to the ground. They wrestled on the ground for a good while before Hermione could manage to pull them apart. All three were left panting for a moment before anyone could say anything._

_"Draco," Hermione hissed, though she was happy to see him, she did not think it was a good idea for him to be there at the moment. "What are you doing here?"_

_"Never mind me," he spat, glaring daggers at Ron. "What was _he_ doing to you?"_

_"He wasn't doing anything," she sighed. "We were only talking."_

_"Only talking!"_

_"Yeah!" Ron yelled, stepping towards Draco without even a hint of fear. Then suddenly he turned to Hermione, his eyes glistening. He went to grab her hands, but Draco batted them away. "Hermione, I love you. Give me another chance!"_

_"Don't listen to him!" Draco cut in, giving him a hard shove. "He betrayed you."_

_"I screwed up and I can never forgive myself for it, but I can make it up to you."_

_"He'll only hurt you again! You belong with me."_

_"Shut up!" Hermione screamed, grabbing her head. She took a few shaking steps backward. "I can't do this anymore! It's too hard! I can't be with either of you!"_

_"Hermione! What are you talking about!" Draco all but shrieked, fear enveloping him._

_"I'm so sorry Draco," she cried, tears making tracks down her face. "But this is too hard. I can't keep living this way! Trying to reason with Ron everyday about why we can't be together, while barely holding together a relationship with you. We fight all the time. We have different values, different goals—nothing in common! I don't even know how you feel about me!"_

_"I love you!" he cried, latching onto her, a haunting desperation in his eyes that she never thought she'd see._

_"It's too late…It's over…"_

_"It's not over!" He searched furiously in his robes but come out emptied handed. Hermione gasped in shock and stumbled back, realizing that he was looking for his wand. Before she can say a word, he lunges forward and snatches Ron's wand. "I know a charm!" he called out, raising the wand, his face fresh with tears. "A memory charm that will make you both forget what happened! And then you'll discover I'm the father of your baby Hermione, and you'll come back to me!"_

_"Draco stop!" she pleaded, truly scared. "You could hurt the baby!"_

_"I know what I'm doing!"_

_"Draco, please! Stop! I love you! Don't do this!"_

_But it was too late and the spell shot from the wand, backfiring completely as it knocked all three out cold. They fell to the grassy ground with soft thuds, the shimmering smoke a haze above their unconscious bodies._

_A light flicked on his the castle, followed soon by the sound of pounding feet. Seconds later Professor Snape found the most unlikely assemblage of students by the lake._

_He ran immediately to Dumbledore._

* * *

THE END! Wooo! Now how did you like that? I've been planning that ending for a long time now. At first I didn't know who should have fired the wand, but then I realized I wanted Draco without a doubt. Oh, and the reason only Draco was having the memory dreams was, of course, because he was the one that fired the wand. Hermione had the one dream (which, if you didn't figure out, was connected to Draco) because she finally confessed her love for him to herself. I hope that makes sense. If not, oh well, it was still interesting :P

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